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H.    DE    BALZAC 


THE   COMEDIE    HUMAINE 


Wenceslas  steinbock   looked  at  her  with  a 
bewildered  air. 


H.    DE    BALZAC 


The  Poor  Parents 

(Les  Parents  Pauvres) 
Part  1. 

Cousin  Betty 


TBANSLATED    BY 


JAMES  WARING 


WITH  A  PHEFACE  BY 


GEORGE   SAINTSBURY 


^ 


PHILADELPHIA 

The  Gebbie  Publishing  Co.,  Ltd. 

1898 


LIST  OP   ILLUSTRATIONS 

WENCESLAS    STEINBOCK    LOOKED    AT    HER    WITH    A    BEWILDERED 

AIR  (p.  65) Frontispiece. 

PAGE 
"  COME,  CHILDREN,"   SAID   HE,  LEADING   HIS   DAUGHTER   AND   THE 

YOUNG   MAN    INTO   THE   GARDEN I42 

MADAME  MARNEFFE   AGAIN   ROSE  TO   GO   TO    THE    DRAWING-ROOM      2l8 

HORTENSE   FELL  AT   HER   FATHER'S   FEET    LIKE   A  CRAZED    THING      280 

"THERE  IS   YOUR   REMEDY" 351 

Drawn  by  W.  Boucher. 


PREFACE. 

"  La.  Cousine  Bette  "  was  perhaps  the  last  really  great  thing 
that  Balzac  did — for  "Le  Cousin  Pons,"  which  now  follows 
it,  was  actually  written  before — and  it  is  beyond  all  question 
one  of  the  very  greatest  of  his  works.  It  was  written  at  the 
highest  possible  pressure,  and  (contrary  to  the  author's  more 
usual  system)  in  parts,  without  ever  seeing  a  proof,  for  the 
"  Constitutionnel "  in  the  autumn,  winter,  and  early  spring 
of  1846-47,  before  his  departure  from  Vierzschovnia,  the 
object  being  to  secure  a  certain  sum  of  ready  money  to  clear 
off  indebtedness.  And  it  has  been  sometimes  asserted  that 
this  labor,  coming  on  the  top  of  many  years  of  scarcely  less 
hard  work,  was  almost  the  last  straw  which  broke  down 
Balzac's  gigantic  strength.  Of  these  things  it  is  never  pos- 
sible to  be  certain;  as  to  the  greatness  of  "La  Cousine 
Bette,"  there  is  no  uncertainty. 

In  the  first  place,  it  is  a  very  long  book  for  Balzac ;  it  is,  I 
think,  putting  aside  books  like  "  Les  Illusions  Perdues,"  and 
"Les  Celibataires,"  and  "  Splendeurs  et  Miseres  des  Courti- 
sanes,"  which  are  really  groups  of  work  written  at  different 
times,  the  longest  of  all  his  novels,  if  we  except  the  still  later 
and  rather  doubtful  *'  Petits  Bourgeois."  In  the  second  place, 
this  length  is  not  obtained — as  length  with  him  is  too  often 
obtained — by  digressions,  by  long  retrospective  narrations,  or 
even  by  the  insertion  of  such  "padding"  as  the  collection 
business  in  "  Le  Cousin  Pons."  The  whole  stuff  and  substance 
of  "La  Cousine  Bette  "  is  honestly  woven  novel-stuff,  of  one 
piece  and  one  tenor  and  texture,  with  for  constant  subject  the 
subterranean  malignity  of  the  heroine,  the  erotomania  of  Hulot 
and  Crevel,  the  sufferings  of  Adeline,  and  the  pieuvre  opera- 
tions of  Marneffe  and  his  wife, — all  of  which  fit  in  and  work 
together  with  each  other  as  exactly  as  the  cogs  and  gear  of  a 

(ix) 


X  PREFACE. 

harmonious  piece  of  machinery  do.  Even  such  much  simpler 
and  shorter  books  as  "  Le  Pere  Goriot "  by  no  means  possess 
this  seamless  unity  of  construction,  this  even  march,  shoulder 
to  shoulder,  of  all  the  personages  of  the  story. 

In  the  second  place,  this  story  itself  strikes  hold  on  the 
reader  with  a  force  not  less  irresistible  than  that  of  the  older 
and  simplier  stories  just  referred  to.  As  compared  even  with 
its  companion,  this  force  of  grasp  is  remarkable.  It  is  not 
absolutely  criminal  or  contemptible  to  feel  that  "  Le  Cousin 
Pons"  sometimes  languishes  and  loses  itself;  this  can  never 
be  said  of  the  history  of  the  evil  destiny,  partly  personified  in 
Elizabeth  Fischer,  which  hovers  over  the  house  of  Hulot. 

Some,  I  believe,  have  felt  inclined  to  question  the  propriety 
of  the  title  of  the  book,  and  to  assign  the  true  heroineship  to 
Valerie  Marneffe,  whom  also  the  same  and  other  persons  are 
fond  of  comparing  with  her  contemporary  Becky  Sharp,  not 
to  the  advantage  of  the  latter.  This  is  no  place  for  a  detailed 
examination  of  the  comparison,  as  to  which  I  shall  only  say 
that  I  do  not  think  Thackeray  has  anything  to  fear  from  it. 
Valerie  herself  is,  beyond  all  doubt,  a  powerful  study  of  the 
"strange  woman,"  enforcing  the  Biblical  view  of  that  per- 
sonage with  singular  force  and  effectiveness.  But  her  methods 
are  coarser  and  more  commonplace  than  Becky's;  she  never 
could  have  long  sustained  such  an  ordeal  as  the  tenure  of  the 
house  in  Curzon  Street  without  losing  even  an  equivocal 
position  in  decent  English  society ;  and  it  must  always  be 
remembered  that  she  was  under  the  orders,  so  to  speak,  of 
Lisbeth,  and  inspired  by  her. 

Lisbeth  herself,  on  the  other  hand,  is  not  one  of  a  class ; 
she  stands  alone  as  much  as  Becky  herself  does.  It  is,  no 
doubt,  an  arduous  and,  some  milky-veined  critics  would  say, 
a  doubtfully  healthy  or  praiseworthy  task  to  depict  almost 
pure  wickedness ;  it  is  excessively  hard  to  render  it  human ; 
and  if  the  difficulty  is  not  increased,  it  is  certainly  not  much 
lessened  by  the  artist's  determination  to  represent  the  male- 


PREFACE.  xt 

factress  as  undiscovered  and  even  unsuspected  throughout. 
Balzac,  however,  has  surmounted  these  difficuhies  with  almost 
complete  success.  The  only  advantage — it  is  no  doubt  a  con- 
siderable one — which  he  has  taken  over  Shakespeare,  when 
Shakespeare  devised  lago,  is  that  of  making  Mademoiselle 
Fischer  a  person  of  low  birth,  narrow  education,  and  intel- 
lectual faculties  narrower  still,  for  all  their  keenness  and 
intensity.  The  largeness  of  brain  with  which  Shakespeare 
endows  his  human  devil,  and  the  largeness  of  heart  of  which 
he  does  not  seem  to  wish  us  to  imagine  him  as  in  certain  cir- 
cumstances incapable,  contrast  sharply  enough  with  the  peasant 
meanness  of  Lisbeth.  Indeed,  Balzac,  whose  seldom  erring 
instinct  in  fixing  on  the  viler  parts  of  human  nature  may  have 
been  somewhat  too  much  dwelt  on,  but  is  undeniable,  has 
here  and  elsewhere  hit  the  fault  of  the  lower  class  generally 
very  well.  It  does  not  appear  that  the  Hulots,  though  they 
treated  her  without  much  ceremony,  gave  Bette  any  real  cause 
of  complaint,  or  that  there  was  anything  in  their  conduct 
corresponding  to  that  of  the  Camusots  to  the  luckless  Pons. 
That  her  cousin  Adeline  had  been  prettier  than  herself  in 
childhood,  and  was  richer  and  more  highly  placed  in  middle 
life,  was  enough  for  Lisbeth — the  incarnation  of  the  Radical 
hatred  of  superiority  in  any  kind.  And  so  she  set  to  work  to 
ruin  and  degrade  the  unhappy  family,  to  set  it  at  variance, 
and  make  it  miserable,  as  best  she  could. 

The  way  of  her  doing  this  is  wonderfully  told,  and  the 
various  characters,  minor  as  well  as  major,  muster  in  wonder- 
ful strength.  I  do  not  know  that  Balzac  has  made  quite  the 
most  of  Hector  Hulot's  vice — in  fact,  here,  as  elsewhere,  I 
think  the  novelist  not  happy  in  treating  this  particular  deadly 
sin.  The  man  is  a  rather  disgusting  and  wholly  idiotic  old 
fribble  rather  than  a  tragic  victim  of  Libitina.  So  also  his 
wife  is  too  angelic.  But  Crevel,  the  very  pattern  and  model 
of  the  vicious  bourgeois  who  has  made  his  fortune ;  and  Wen- 
ceslas  Steinbock,  pattern  again  and  model  of  the  foibles  of 


xii  PREFACE. 

Polen  aus  der  Polackei ;  and  Hortense,  with  the  better  energ)' 
of  the  Hulots  in  her ;  and  the  loathsome  reptile  Marneffe,  and 
Victorin,  and  Celestine,  and  the  Brazilian  (though  he,  to  be 
sure,  is  rather  a  transpontine  rastaqouere),  and  all  the  rest  are 
capital,  and  do  their  work  capitally.  But  they  would  not  be 
half  so  fine  as  they  are  if,  behind  them,  there  were  not  the 
savage  Pagan  naturalism  of  Lisbeth  Fischer,  the  "  angel  of  the 
family" — and  a  black  angel  indeed. 

The  bibliography  of  the  two  divisions  of  "  Les  Parents 
Pauvres"  is  so  closely  connected,  that  it  is  difficult  to  extri- 
cate the  separate  histories,  and  they  will  be  given  together 
here.  Originally  the  author  had  intended  to  begin  with  "  Le 
Cousin  Pons"  (which  then  bore  the  title  of  ''Les  Deux 
Musiciens  "  ),  and  to  make  it  the  more  important  of  the  two ; 
but  "La  Cousine  Bette"  grew  under  his  hands,  and  became, 
in  more  than  one  sense,  the  leader.  Both  appeared  in  the 
"  Constitutionnel ;  "  the  first  between  October  8th  and  De- 
cember 3rd,  1846,  the  second  between  March  i8th  and  May 
of  next  year.  In  the  winter  of  1847-48  the  two  were  pub- 
lished as  a  book  in  twelve  volumes  by  Chlendowski  and 
Potion.  In  the  newspaper  (where  Balzac  received — a  rarely 
exact  detail — 12,836  francs  for  the  Cousine,  and  9238  for  the 
Cousin)  the  first-named  had  thirty-eight  headed  chapter-divis- 
ions, which  in  book  form  became  a  hundred  and  thirty-two. 
**  Le  Cousin  Pons  "  had  two  parts  in  feuilleton,  and  thirty-one 
chapters,  which  in  book  form  became  no  parts  and  seventy- 
eight  chapters.  All  divisions  were  swept  away  when>  at  the 
end  of  1848,  the  books  were  added  together  to  the  Comddie. 

G.  S. 


THE  POOR  PARENTS 

(^Les  Parents  Pauvres). 

To  Don  Michele  Angela  Caj'etani, 
Prince  of  Teano. 

It  is  neither  to  the  Roman  Prince,  nor  to  the  repre- 
sentative of  the  illustrious  house  of  Cajetani,  which 
has  given  more  than  one  Pope  to  the  Christian 
Church,  that  I  dedicate  this  short  portion  of  a  long 
history  ;  it  is  to  the  learned  comtnentator  of  Dante. 

It  was  you  who  led  vie  to  understand  the  marvel- 
ous framework  of  ideas  on  which  the  great  Italian  poet 
built  his  poem,  the  only  work  which  the  moderns  can 
place  by  that  of  Homer.  Till  I  heard  you,  the  Divine 
Comedy  was  to  me  a  vast  enigma  to  which  none  had 
found  the  clue — the  commentators  least  of  all.  Thus, 
to  understand  Dante  is  to  be  as  great  as  he  ;  but  every 
form  of  greatness  is  familiar  to  you. 

A  French  savant  would  make  a  reputation,  earn  a 
professor'' s  chair  and  a  dozen  decorations,  by  publish- 
ing in  a  dogmatic  volume  the  improvised  lecture  by 
which  you  lent  enchatitment  to  one  of  those  evenings 
which  are  rest  after  seeing  Rome.  You  do  not  know, 
perhaps,  that  most  of  our  professors  live  on  Germany, 
on  England,  on  the  East,  or  on  the  North,  as  an  insect 
lives  on  a  tree  ;  and,  like  the  insect,  become  an  integral 
part  of  it,  borrowing  their  merit  from  that  of  what 
they  feed  on.  Now,  Italy  hitherto  has  not  yet  been 
worked  out  in  public  lectures.  No  one  will  ever  give 
me  credit  for  my  literary  honesty.  Merely  by  plunder- 
ing you  I  might  have  been  as  learned  as  three  Schlegels 
in  one,  whereas  I  mean  to  remaiti  a  humble  Doctor  of 

(1) 


THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

the  Faculty  of  Social  Medicine,  a  veterinary  surgeon 
for  incurable  maladies.  Were  it  only  to  lay  a  token  of 
gratitude  at  the  feet  of  my  cicerone,  I  would  fain  add 
your  illustrious  name  to  those  of  Porcia,  of  San-Sever- 
ino,  of  Pareto,  of  di  Negro,  and  of  Belgiojoso,  who 
will  represent  in  this  *  *  Human  Comedy ' '  the  close 
and  constant  alliance  between  Italy  and  Prance,  to 
which  Bandello  did  honor  in  the  same  way  in  the  six- 
teenth century — Bandello,  the  bishop  and  author  of 
some  strange  tales  indeed,  who  left  us  the  splendid  col- 
lection of  romances  whence  Shakespeare  derived  many 
of  his  plots  and  even  complete  characters,  word  for 
word. 

The  two  sketches  I  dedicate  to  you  are  the  two  eter- 
nal aspects  of  one  and  the  same  fact.  Homo  duplex, 
said  the  great  Buffon :  why  not  add  Res  duplex? 
Everything  has  two  sides,  even  virtue.  Hence  Moliire 
always  shows  us  both  sides  of  every  human  prob- 
lem;  and  Diderot,  imitating  him,  once  wrote,  *'This 
is  not  a  mere  tale ' ' — in  what  is  perhaps  Diderof  s 
masterpiece,  where  he  shows  us  the  beautiful  picture  of 
Mademoiselle  de  Lachaux  sacrificed  by  Gardanne, 
side  by  side  with  that  of  a  perfect  lover  dying  for  his 
mistress. 

In  the  same  way,  these  tivo  romances  form  a  pair, 
like  twins  of  opposite  sexes.  This  is  a  literary  vagary  to 
which  a  writer  may  for  once  give  way,  especially  as 
part  of  a  work  in  which  I  am  endeavoring  to  depict 
every  form  that  can  serve  as  a  garb  to  mind. 

Most  human  quarrels  arise  from  the  fact  that  both 
wise  men  and  dunces  exist  who  are  so  constituted  as 
to  be  incapable  of  seeing  more  than  one  side  of  any  fact 
or  idea,  while  each  asserts  that  the  side  he  sees  is  the 
only  true  afid  right  one.  Thus  it  is  written  in  the 
Holy  Book,  "  God  will  deliver  the  world  over  to  divis- 


COUSIN  BETTY. 

ions.^^  1  must  confess  that  this  passage  of  Scripture 
alone  should  persuade  the  papal  see  to  give  you  the 
control  of  the  two  Chambers  to  carry  out  this  text  which 
found  its  commentary  in  1 8 1 4,  in  the  decree  of  King 
Louis  XVIII. 

May  your  wit  and  the  poetry  that  is  in  you  extend 
a  protecting  hand  over  these  two  histories  ^The  Poor 
Relations, 

Of  your  affectionate  humble  servant, 

De  Balzac. 
Paris,  August-September,  1846. 


COUSIN   BETTY. 
PART  I. 

THE    PRODIGAL   FATHER. 

One  day,  about  the  middle  of  July,  1838,  one  of  the  car- 
riages, then  lately  introduced  to  Paris  cabstands,  and  known 
as  milords,  was  driving  down  the  Rue  de  1' University,  con- 
veying a  stout  man  of  middle  height  in  the  uniform  of  a  cap- 
tain of  the  National  Guard. 

Among  the  Paris  crowd,  who  are  supposed  to  be  so  clever, 
there  are  some  men  who  fancy  themselves  infinitely  more 
attractive  in  uniform  than  in  their  ordinary  clothes,  and  who 
attribute  to  women  so  depraved  a  taste  that  they  believe  they 
will  be  favorably  impressed  by  the  aspect  of  a  busby  and  of 
military  accoutrements. 

The  countenance  of  this  captain  of  the  Second  Company 
beamed  with  a  self-satisfaction  that  added  splendor  to  his 
ruddy  and  somewhat  chubby  face.  The  halo  of  glory  that  a 
fortune  made  in  business  gives  to  a  retired  tradesman  sat  on 
his  brow,  and  stamped  him  as  one  of  the  elect  of  Paris — at 


4  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

least  a  retired  deputy-mayor  of  his  quarter  of  the  town.  And 
you  may  be  sure  that  the  ribbon  of  the  Legion  of  Honor  was 
not  missing  from  his  breast,  gallantly  padded  a  la  Prussienne. 
Proudly  seated  in  one  corner  of  the  milord,  this  splendid  per- 
son let  his  gaze  wander  over  the  passers-by,  who,  in  Paris, 
often  thus  meet  an  ingratiating  smile  meant  for  sweet  eyes  that 
are  absent. 

The  vehicle  stopped  in  the  part  of  the  street  between  the 
Rue  de  Bellechasse  and  the  Rue  de  Bourgogne,  at  the  door  of 
a  large,  newly  built  house,  standing  on  part  of  the  courtyard 
of  an  ancient  mansion  that  had  a  garden.  The  old  house 
remained  in  its  original  state,  beyond  the  courtyard  curtailed 
by  half  its  extent. 

Only  from  the  way  in  which  the  officer  accepted  the  assist- 
ance of  the  coachman  to  help  him  out,  it  was  plain  that  he 
was  past  fifty.  There  are  certain  movements  so  undisguisedly 
heavy  that  they  are  as  tell-tale  as  a  register  of  birth.  The 
captain  put  on  his  lemon-colored  right-hand  glove,  and,  with- 
out any  question  to  the  gatekeeper,  went  up  the  outer  steps  to 
the  first  floor  of  the  new  house  with  a  look  that  proclaimed, 
**  She  is  mine  !  " 

The  concierges  of  Paris  have  sharp  eyes ;  they  do  not  stop 
visitors  who  wear  an  order,  have  a  blue  uniform  and  walk 
ponderously ;  in  short,  they  know  a  rich  man  when  they  see 
him. 

This  first  floor  was  entirely  occupied  by  Monsieur  le  Baron 
Hulot  d'Ervy,  commissary-general  under  the  Republic,  re- 
tired army  contractor,  and  at  the  present  time  at  the  head 
of  one  of  the  most  important  departments  of  the  War  Office, 
councilor  of  State,  officer  of  the  Legion  of  Honor,  and  so 
forth. 

This  Baron  Hulot  had  taken  the  name  of  d'Ervy — the  place 
of  his  birth — to  distinguish  him  from  his  brother,  the  famous 
General  Hulot,  colonel  of  the  Grenadiers  of  the  Imperial 
Guard,  created  by  the  Emperor  Comte  de  Forzheim  after  the 


COUSIN  BETTY.  5 

campaign  of  1809.  The  count,  the  elder  brother,  being  re- 
sponsible for  his  junior,  had,  with  paternal  care,  placed  him 
in  the  commissariat,  where,  thanks  to  the  services  of  the  two 
brothers,  the  baron  deserved  and  won  Napoleon's  good  graces. 
After  1807,  Baron  Hulot  was  commissary-general  for  the 
army  in  Spain. 

Having  rung  the  bell,  the  citizen-captain  made  strenuous 
efforts  to  pull  his  coat  into  place,  for  it  had  rucked  up  as  much 
at  the  back  as  in  front,  pushed  out  of  shape  by  the  working 
of  a  pyramidal  stomach.  Being  admitted  as  soon  as  the  servant 
in  livery  saw  him,  the  important  and  imposing  personage 
followed  the  man,  who  opened  the  door  of  the  drawing-room, 
announcing — 

"Monsieur  Crevel." 

On  hearing  the  name,  singularly  appropriate  to  the  figure 
of  the  man  who  bore  it,  a  tall,  fair  woman,  evidently  young- 
looking  for  her  age,  rose  as  if  she  had  received  an  electric 
shock. 

"Hortense,  my  darling,  go  into  the  garden  with  your 
Cousin  Betty,"  she  said  hastily  to  her  daughter,  who  was 
working  at  some  embroidery  at  her  mother's  side. 

After  curtseying  prettily  to  the  captain.  Mademoiselle  Hor- 
tense  went  out  by  a  glass  door,  taking  with  her  a  withered- 
looking  spinster,  who  looked  older  than  the  baroness,  though 
she  was  five  years  younger. 

"They  are  settling  your  marriage,"  said  Cousin  Betty  in 
the  girl's  ear,  without  seeming  at  all  offended  at  the  way  in 
which  the  baroness  had  dismissed  them,  counting  her  almost 
as  zero. 

The  cousin's  dress  might,  at  need,  have  explained  this  free- 
^nd-easy  demeanor.  The  old  maid  wore  a  merino  gown  of  a 
danT  plum  color,  of  which  the  cut  and  trimming  dated  from 
the  year  of  the  Restoration  -,  a  little  worked  collar,  worth 
perhaps  three  francs;  and  a  common  straw  hat  with  blue 
satin  ribbons,  edged  with  straw  plait,  such  as  the  old-clothes 


6  THE   POOR  PARENTS. 

buyers  wear  at  market.  On  looking  down  at  her  kid  shoes, 
made,  it  was  evident,  by  the  veriest  cobbler,  a  stranger  would 
have  hesitated  to  recognize  Cousin  Betty  as  a  member  of  the 
family,  for  she  looked  exactly  like  a  journeywoman  sempstress. 
But  she  did  not  leave  the  room  without  bestowing  a  little 
friendly  nod  on  Monsieur  Crevel,  to  which  that  gentleman 
responded  by  a  look  of  mutual  understanding. 

"You  are  coming  to  us  to-morrow  I  hope,  Mademoiselle 
Fischer?"  said  he. 

"You  have  no  company?"  asked  Cousin  Betty. 

"My  children  and  yourself,  no  one  else,"  replied  the 
visitor. 

"  Very  well,"  replied  she;  "  depend  on  me." 

"And  here  am  I,  madame,  at  your  orders,"  said  the  citizen- 
captain,  bowing  again  to  Madame  Hulot. 

He  gave  such  a  look  at  Madame  Hulot  as  Tartuffe  casts  at 
Elmire — when  a  provincial  actor  plays  the  part  and  thinks  it 
necessary  to  emphasize  its  meaning — at  Poitiers,  or  at  Cou- 
tances. 

"  If  you  will  come  into  this  room  with  me,  we  shall  be  more 
conveniently  placed  for  talking  business  than  we  are  in  this 
room,"  said  Madame  Hulot,  going  to  an  adjoining  room, 
which,  as  the  apartment  was  arranged,  served  as  a  card-room. 

It  was  divided  by  a  slight  partition  from  a  boudoir  looking 
out  on  the  garden,  and  Madame  Hulot  left  her  visitor  to  him- 
self for  a  minute,  for  she  thought  it  wise  to  shut  the  window 
and  the  door  of  the  boudoir,  so  that  no  one  should  get  in 
and  listen.  She  even  took  the  precaution  of  shutting  the  glass 
door  of  the  drawing-room,  smiling  on  her  daughter  and  her 
cousin,  whom  she  saw  seated  in  an  old  summer-house  at  the 
end  of  the  garden.  As  she  came  back  she  left  the  card-room 
door  open,  so  as  to  hear  if  any  one  should  open  that  of  the 
drawing-room  to  come  in. 

As  she  came  and  went,  the  baroness,  seen  by  nobody, 
allowed  her  face  to  betray  all  her  thoughts,  and  any  one  who 


COUSIN  BETTY.  7 

could  have  seen  her  would  have  been  shocked  to  see  her  agita- 
tion. But  when  she  finally  came  back  from  the  glass  door  of 
the  drawing-room,  as  she  entered  the  card-room,  her  face  was 
hidden  behind  the  impenetrable  reserve  which  every  woman, 
even  the  most  candid,  seems  to  have  at  her  command. 

During  all  these  preparations — odd,  to  say  the  least — the 
National  Guardsman  studied  the  furniture  of  the  room  in 
which  he  found  himself.  As  he  noted  the  silk  curtains,  once 
red,  now  faded  to  dull  purple  by  the  sunshine,  and  frayed  in 
the  pleats  by  long  wear ;  the  carpet,  from  which  the  hues  had 
faded;  the  discolored  gilding  of  the  furniture;  and  the  silk 
seats,  discolored  in  patches,  and  wearing  into  strips — expres- 
sions of  scorn,  satisfaction,  and  hope  dawned  in  succession 
without  disguise  on  his  stupid  tradesman's  face.  He  looked 
at  himself  in  the  glass  over  an  old  clock  of  the  Empire,  and 
was  contemplating  the  general  effect,  when  the  rustle  of  her 
silk  skirt  announced  the  baroness.  He  at  once  struck  an 
attitude. 

After  dropping  on  to  a  sofa,  which  had  been  a  very  handsome 
one  in  the  year  of  1809,  the  baroness,  pointing  to  an  armchair 
with  the  arms  ending  in  bronze  sphinxes'  heads,  while  the 
paint  was  peeling  from  the  wood,  which  showed  through  in 
many  places,  signed  to  Crevel  to  be  seated. 

"  All  the  precautions  you  are  taking,  madame,  would  seem 
full  of  promise  to  a " 

**To  a  lover,"  said  she,  interrupting  him. 

"  The  word  is  too  feeble,"  said  he,  placing  his  right  hand  on 
his  heart,  and  rolling  his  eyes  in  a  way  which  almost  always 
makes  a  woman  laugh  when  she,  in  cold  blood,  sees  such  a 
look.     "  A  lover  !     A  lover?     Say  a  man  bewitched ** 

"Listen,  Monsieur  Crevel,"  said  the  baroness,  too  anxious 
to  be  able  to  laugh,  "  you  are  fifty — ten  years  younger  than 
Monsieur  Hulot,  I  know ;  but  at  my  age  a  woman's  follies 
ought  to  be  justified  by  beauty,  youth,  fame,  superior  merit — 
some  one  of  the  splendid  qualities  which  can  dazzle  us  to  the 


8  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

point  of  making  us  forget  all  else — even  at  our  age.  Though 
you  may  have  fifty  thousand  francs  a  year,  your  age  counter- 
balances your  fortune;  thus  you  have  nothing  whatever  of 
what  a  woman  looks  for " 

"But  love  !  "  said  the  officer,  rising  and  coming  forward. 
*'  Such  love  as " 

"No,  monsieur,  such  obstinacy!"  said  the  baroness,  in- 
terrupting him  to  put  an  end  to  his  absurdity. 

"Yes,  obstinacy,"  said  he,  "and  love;  but  something 
stronger  still — a  claim " 

"A  claim!"  cried  Madame  Hulot,  rising  sublime  with 
scorn,  defiance,  and  indignation.  "  But,"  she  went  on,  "  this 
will  bring  us  to  no  issues ;  I  did  not  ask  you  to  come  here  to 
discuss  the  matter  which  led  to  your  banishment  in  spite  of 
the  connection  between  our  families " 

"I  had  fancied  so." 

"What!  still?"  cried  she.  "Do  you  not  see,  monsieur, 
by  the  entire  ease  and  freedom  with  which  I  can  speak  of  lovers 
and  love,  of  everything  least  creditable  to  a  woman,  that  I  am 
perfectly  secure  in  my  own  virtue  ?  I  fear  nothing — not  even 
to  shut  myself  in  alone  with  you.  Is  that  the  conduct  of  a 
weak  woman  ?  You  know  full  well  why  I  begged  you  to 
come." 

"  No,  madame,"  replied  Crevel,  with  an  assumption  of 
great  coldness.  He  pursed  up  his  lips,  and  again  struck  an 
attitude. 

"  Well,  I  will  be  brief,  to  shorten  our  common  discomfort," 
said  the  baroness,  looking  at  Crevel. 

Crevel  made  an  ironical  bow,  in  which  the  man  who  knew 
the  race  would  have  recognized  the  graces  of  a  bagman. 

"  Our  son  married  your  daughter " 

"  And  if  it  were  to  do  again "  said  Crevel. 

"It  would  not  be  done  at  all,  I  suspect,"  said  the  baroness 
hastily.  "  However,  you  have  nothing  to  complain  of.  My 
son  is  not  only  one  of  the  leading  pleaders  of  Paris,  but  for 


COUSIN  BETTY.  9 

the  last  year  he  has  sat  as  deputy,  and  his  maiden  speech  was 
brilliant  enough  to  lead  us  to  suppose  that  ere  long  he  will  be 
in  office.  Victorin  has  twice  been  called  upon  to  report  on 
important  measures ;  and  he  might  even  now,  if  he  chose,  be 
made  attorney-general  in  the  Court  of  Appeal.  So,  if  you 
mean  to  say  that  your  son-in-law  has  no  fortune " 

"  Worse  than  that,  madame,  a  son-in-law  whom  I  am  obliged 
to  maintain,"  replied  Crevel.  *'  Of  the  five  hundred  thousand 
francs  that  formed  my  daughter's  marriage  portion,  two  hun- 
dred thousand  have  vanished — God  knows  how  ! — in  paying 
the  young  gentleman's  debts,  in  furnishing  his  house  splenda- 
ciously — a  house  costing  five  hundred  thousand  francs,  and 
bringing  in  scarcely  fifteen  thousand,  since  he  occupies  the 
larger  part  of  it,  while  he  owes  two  hundred  and  sixty  thou- 
sand francs  of  the  purchase-money.  The  rent  he  gets  barely 
pays  the  interest  on  the  debt.  I  have  had  to  give  my  daughter 
twenty  thousand  francs  this  year  to  help  her  make  both  ends 
meet.  And  then  my  son-in-law,  who  was  making  thirty  thou- 
sand francs  a  year  at  the  Assizes,  I  am  told,  is  going  to  throw 
that  up  for  the  Chamber " 

"  This  again.  Monsieur  Crevel,  is  beside  the  mark;  we  are 
wandering  from  the  point.  Still,  to  dispose  of  it  finally,  it 
may  be  said  that  if  my  son  gets  into  office,  if  he  has  you  made 
an  officer  of  the  Legion  of  Honor  and  councilor  of  the  munici- 
pality of  Paris,  you,  as  a  retired  perfumer,  will  not  have  much 
to  complain  of " 

"Ah!  there  we  are  again,  madame!"  Yes,  I  am  a  trades- 
man, a  storekeeper,  a  retail  dealer  in  almond-paste,  eau-de- 
Portugal,  and  hair-oil,  and  was  only  too  much  honored  when 
my  only  daughter  was  married  to  the  son  of  Monsieur  le  Baron 
Hulot  d'Ervy — my  daughter  will  be  a  baroness  !  This  is 
Regency,  Louis  XV.,  CEil-de-bceuf — quite  tip-top! — very 
good.  I  love  Celestine  as  a  man  loves  his  only  child — so  well 
indeed,  that,  to  preserve  her  from  having  either  brother  or 
sister,  I  resigned  myself  to  all  the  privations  of  a  widower — in 


10  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

Paris,  and  in  the  prime  of  life,  madame.  But  you  must  under- 
stand that,  in  spite  of  this  extravagant  affection  for  my 
daughter,  I  do  not  intend  to  reduce  my  fortune  for  the  sake 
of  your  son,  whose  expenses  are  not  wholly  accounted  for — in 
my  eyes,  as  an  old  man  of  business." 

"  Monsieur,  you  may  at  this  day  see  in  the  Ministry  of 
Commerce  Monsieur  Popinot,  formerly  a  druggist  in  the  Rue 
des  Lombards " 

"And  a  friend  of  mine,  madame,"  said  the  ex-perfumer. 
"  For  I,  Celestin  Crevel,  foreman  once  to  old  Cesar  Birotteau, 
bought  up  the  said  Cesar  Birotteau' s  stock ;  and  he  was 
Popinot's  father-in-law.  Why,  that  very  Popinot  was  no 
more  than  a  clerk  in  the  establishment,  and  he  is  the  first  to 
remind  me  of  it ;  for  he  is  not  proud,  to  do  him  justice,  to 
men  in  a  good  position  with  an  income  of  sixty  thousand 
francs  in  the  Funds." 

"Well,  then,  monsieur,  the  notions  you  term  'Regency* 
are  quite  out  of  date  at  a  time  when  a  man  is  taken  at  his 
personal  worth ;  and  that  is  what  you  did  when  you  married 
your  daughter  to  my  son." 

"But  you  do  not  know  how  the  marriage  was  brought 
about!"  cried  Crevel.  "Oh,  that  cursed  bachelor  life! 
But  for  my  misconduct,  my  Celestine  might  at  this  day  be 
Vicomtesse  Popinot !  " 

"  Once  more  have  done  with  recriminations  over  accom- 
plished facts,"  said  the  baroness  anxiously.  "Let  us  rather 
discuss  the  complaints  I  found  on  your  strange  behavior.  My 
daughter  Hortense  had  a  chance  of  marrying;  the  match 
depended  entirely  on  you ;  I  believed  you  felt  some  senti- 
ments of  generosity ;  I  thought  you  would  do  justice  to  a 
woman  who  has  never  had  a  thought  in  her  heart  for  any  man 
but  her  husband,  that  you  would  have  understood  how  neces- 
sary it  is  for  her  not  to  receive  a  man  who  may  compromise 
her,  and  that  for  the  honor  of  the  family  with  which  5'ou 
are  allied  you  would  have  been  eager  to  promote  Hortense's 


COUSIN  BETTY.  U 

settlement  with  Monsieur  le  Conseiller  Lebas.  And  it  ii  you, 
monsieur,  you  who  have  hindered  the  marriage." 

*'  Madame,"  said  the  ex-perfumer,  "  I  acted  the  part  of  an 
honest  man.  I  was  asked  whether  the  two  hundred  thousand 
francs  to  be  settled  on  Mademoiselle  Hortense  would  be  forth- 
coming. I  replied  exactly  in  these  words :  *  I  would  not 
answer  for  it.  My  son-in-law,  to  whom  the  Hulots  had 
promised  the  same  sum,  was  in  debt ;  and  I  believe  that  if 
Monsieur  Hulot  d'Ervy  were  to  die  to-morrow,  his  widow 
would  have  nothing  to  live  on.'     There,  fair  lady." 

"And  would  you  have  said  as  much,  monsieur,"  asked 
Madame  Hulot,  looking  Crevel  steadily  in  the  face,  "  if  I 
had  been  false  to  my  duty  ?  " 

"I  should  not  be  in  a  position  to  say  it,  dearest  Adeline," 
cried  this  singular  adorer,  interrupting  the  baroness,  "  for  you 
would  have  found  the  amount  in  my  pocket-book." 

And  adding  action  to  word,  the  fat  guardsman  knelt  down 
on  one  knee  and  kissed  Madame  Hulot's  hand,  seeing  that 
his  speech  had  filled  her  with  speechless  horror,  which  he 
took  for  hesitancy. 

"What,  buy  my  daughter's  fortune  at   the  cost  of ? 

Rise,  monsieur — or  I  ring  the  bell." 

Crevel  rose  with  great  difficulty.  This  fact  made  him  so 
furious  that  he  again  struck  his  favorite  attitude.  Most  men 
have  some  habitual  position  by  which  they  fancy  that  they 
show  to  the  best  advantage  the  good  points  bestowed  on  them 
by  nature.  This  attitude  in  Crevel  consisted  in  crossing  his 
arms  like  Napoleon,  his  head  showing  three-quarters  face,  and 
his  eyes  fixed  on  the  horizon,  as  the  painter  has  shown  the 
Emperor  in  his  portrait. 

**To  be  faithful,"  he  began  with  well-acted  indignation, 
"so  faithful  to  a  liber " 

"To  a  husband  who  is  worthy  of  such  fidelity,"  Madame 
Hulot  put  in,  to  hinder  Crevel  from  saying  a  word  she  did  not 
choose  to  hear. 


12  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

"Come,  madame;  you  wrote  to  bid  me  here,  you  ask  the 
reasons  for  my  conduct,  you  drive  me  to  extremities  with  your 
imperial  airs,  your  scorn,  and  your  contempt !  Any  one  might 
think  I  was  a  negro.     But  I  repeat  it,  and  you  may  believe 

me,  I  have  a  right  to— to  make  love  to  you,  for But, 

no;  I  love  you  well  enough  to  hold  my  tongue." 

*'You  may  speak,  monsieur.  In  a  few  days  I  shall  be 
eight-and-forty  j  I  am  no  prude ;  I  can  hear  whatever  you  can 
say." 

*•'  Then  will  you  give  me  your  word  of  honor  as  an  honest 
woman — for  you  are,  alas  for  me !  an  honest  woman — never 
to  mention  my  name  or  to  say  that  it  was  I  who  betrayed  the 
secret  ? ' ' 

"  If  that  is  the  condition  on  which  you  speak,  I  will  swear 
never  to  tell  any  one  from  whom  I  heard  the  horrors  you  pro- 
pose to  tell  me,  not  even  ray  husband." 

"I  should  think  not  indeed,  for  only  you  and  he  are  con- 
cerned." 

Madame  Hulot  turned  pale. 

**  Oh,  if  you  still  really  love  Hulot,  it  will  distress  you. 
Shall  I  say  no  more  ?  ' ' 

**  Speak,  monsieur;  for  by  your  account  you  wish  to  justify 
in  my  eyes  the  extraordinary  declarations  you  have  chosen  to 
make  me,  and  your  persistency  in  tormenting  a  woman  of  my 
age,  whose  only  wish  is  to  see  her  daughter  married,  and  then 
— to  die  in  peace." 

*'  You  see ;  you  are  unhappy." 

**I,  monsieur?" 

"Yes,  beautiful,  noble  creature!"  cried  Crevel.  "You 
have  indeed  been  too  wretched  !  " 

"  Monsieur,  be  silent  and  go — or  speak  to  me  as  you  ought." 

"Do  you  know,  madame,  how  Master  Hulot  and  I  first 
made  acquaintance?    At  our  mistresses',  madame." 

"Oh,  monsieur !  " 

"Yes,  madame,  at  our  mistresses',"  Crevel  repeated  in  a 


COUSIN  BETTY.  13 

melodramatic  tone,  and  leaving  his  position  to  wave  his  right 
hand. 

"Well,  and  what  then?"  said  the  baroness  coolly,  to 
Crevel's  great  amazement. 

Such  mean  seducers  cannot  understand  a  great  soul. 

"  I,  a  widower  five  years  since,"  Crevel  began,  in  the  tone 
of  a  man  who  has  a  story  to  tell,  "  and  not  wishing  to  marry 
again  for  the  sake  of  the  daughter  I  adore,  not  choosing  either 
to  cultivate  any  such  connection  in  ray  own  establishment, 
though  I  had  at  the  time  a  very  pretty  lady  accountant,  I  set 
up,  '  on  her  own  account,'  as  they  say,  a  little  sempstress  of 
fifteen — really  a  miracle  of  beauty,  with  whom  I  fell  desper- 
ately in  love.  And  in  fact,  madame,  I  asked  an  aunt  of  my 
own,  my  mother's  sister,  whom  I  sent  for  from  the  country, 
to  live  with  the  sweet  creature  and  keep  an  eye  on  her,  that 
she  might  behave  as  well  as  might  be  in  this  rather — what 
shall  I  say? — shady? — no,  delicate  position. 

*'  The  child,  whose  talent  for  music  was  striking,  had  mas- 
ters, she  was  educated — I  had  to  give  her  something  to  do. 
Beside,  I  wished  to  be  at  once  her  father,  her  benefactor,  and 
— well,  out  with  it — her  lover  ;  to  kill  two  birds  with  one 
stone,  a  good  action  and  a  sweetheart.  For  five  years  I  was 
very  happy.  The  girl  had  one  of  those  voices  that  make  the 
fortune  of  a  theatre  ;  I  can  only  describe  her  by  saying  that 
she  is  a  Duprez  in  petticoats.  It  cost  me  two  thousand  francs 
a  year  only  to  cultivate  her  talent  as  a  singer.  She  made  me 
music-mad  ;  I  took  a  box  at  the  opera  for  her  and  for  ray 
daughter,  and  went  there  alternate  evenings  with  Celestine  or 
Joseph  a." 

"  What,  the  famous  singer  ?  " 

"  Yes,  madame,  "said  Crevel  with  pride,  "the  famous  Josepha 
owes  everything  to  me.  At  last,  in  1834,  when  the  child  was 
twenty,  believing  that  I  had  attached  her  to  me  for  ever,  and 
being  very  weak  where  she  was  concerned,  I  thought  I  would 
give  her  a  little  amusement,  and  I  introduced  her  to  a  pretty 


14  THE   POOR  PARENTS. 

little  actress,  Jenny  Cadine,  whose  life  had  been  somewhat 
like  her  own.  This  actress  also  owed  everything  to  a  protector 
who  had  brought  her  up  in  leading-strings.  That  protector 
was  Baron  Hulot." 

**  I  know  that,"  said  the  baroness,  in  a  calm  voice  without 
the  least  agitation. 

**  Bless  me  !  "  cried  Crevel,  more  and  more  astounded. 
"Well !  But  do  you  know  that  your  monster  of  a  husband 
took  Jenny  Cadine  in  hand  at  the  age  of  thirteen?" 

"  What  then  ?  "  said  the  baroness. 

"As  Jenny  Cadine*  and  Josepha  were  both  aged  twenty 
when  they  first  met,"  the  ex-tradesman  went  on,  "the  baron 
had  been  playing  the  part  of  Louis  XV.  to  Mademoiselle  de 
Romans  ever  since  1826,  and  you  were  twelve  years  younger 
then " 

"  I  had  my  reasons,  monsieur,  for  leaving  Monsieur  Hulot 
his  liberty." 

"That  falsehood,  madame,  will  surely  be  enough  to  wipe 
out  every  sin  you  have  ever  committed,  and  to  open  to  you 
the  gates  of  Paradise,"  replied  Crevel,  with  a  knowing  air 
that  brought  the  color  to  the  baroness'  cheeks.  "  Sublime 
and  adored  woman,  tell  that  to  those  who  will  believe  it,  but 
not  to  old  Crevel,  who  has,  I  may  tell  you,  feasted  too  often 
as  one  of  four  with  your  rascally  husband  not  to  know  what 
your  high  merits  are  !  Many  a  time  has  he  blamed  himself 
when  half  tipsy  as  he  has  expatiated  on  your  perfections.  Oh, 
I  know  you  well  !  A  libertine  might  hesitate  between  you 
and  a  girl  of  twenty.     I  do  not  hesitate " 

"  Monsieur !  " 

"  Well,  I  say  no  more.  But  you  must  know,  saintly  and 
noble  woman,  that  a  husband,  when  he  is  screwed,  will  tell  his 
mistress  many  things  about  his  wife  which  make  the  slut  split 
with  laughter." 

Tears  of  shame  hanging  to  Madame  Hulot's  long  lashes 
*  See  the  "  Unconscious  Mummers." 


COUSIN  BETTY.  16 

checked  the  National  Guardsman.     He  stopped  short,  and 
forgot  his  attitude. 

"  To  proceed,"  said  he.  "  We  became  intimate,  the  baron 
and  I,  through  the  two  hussies.  The  baron,  like  all  bad  lots, 
is  very  pleasant,  a  thoroughly  jolly  good  fellow.  Yes,  he  took 
my  fancy,  the  old  rascal.  He  could  be  so  funny  !  Well, 
enough  of  those  reminiscences.  We  got  to  be  like  brothers. 
The  scoundrel — quite  Regency  in  his  notions — tried  indeed  to 
deprave  me  altogether,  preached  Saint-Simonism  as  to  women, 
and  all  sorts  of  lordly  ideas  ;  but,  you  see,  I  was  fond  enough 
of  my  girl  to  have  married  her,  only  I  was  afraid  of  having 
children. 

"Then  between  two  old  daddies,  such  friends  as — as  we 
were,  what  more  natural  than  that  we  should  think  of  our 
children  marrying  each  other?  Three  months  after  his  son 
had  married  my  Celestine,  Hulot — I  don't  know  how  I  can 
utter  the  wretch's  name !  he  has  cheated  us  both,  madame — 
well,  the  villain  did  me  out  of  my  little  Jos^pha.  The 
scoundrel  knew  that  he  was  supplanted  in  the  heart  of  Jenny 
Cadine  by  a  young  lawyer  and  by  an  artist — only  two  of 
them  ! — for  the  girl  had  more  and  more  of  a  howling  success, 
and  he  stole  my  sweet  little  girl,  a  perfect  darling — but  you 
must  have  seen  her  at  the  opera ;  he  got  her  an  engagement 
there.  Your  husband  is  not  so  well  behaved  as  I  am.  I  am 
ruled  as  straight  as  a  sheet  of  music-paper.  He  had  dropped 
a  good  deal  of  money  on  Jenny  Cadine,  who  must  have  cost 
him  near  on  thirty  thousand  francs  a  year.  Well,  I  can  only 
tell  you  that  he  is  ruining  himself  outright  for  Josepha. 

"Josepha,  madame,  is  a  Jewess.  Her  name  is  Mirah,  the 
anagram  of  Hiram,  an  Israelite  mark  that  stamps  her,  for 
she  was  a  foundling  picked  up  in  Germany,  and  the  inquiries 
I  have  made  prove  that  she  is  the  illegitimate  child  of  a  rich 
Jew  banker.  The  life  of  the  theatre,  and,  above  all,  the  teach- 
ing of  Jenny  Cadine,  Madame  Schontz,  Malaga,  and  Carabine, 
as  to  the  way  to  treat  an  old  man,  have  developed,  in  the  child 


16  THE   POOR  PARENTS. 

whom  I  had  kept  in  a  respectable  and  not  too  expensive  way 
of  life,  all  the  native  Hebrew  instinct  for  gold  and  jewels — for 
the  golden  calf. 

"  So  this  famous  singer,  hungering  for  plunder,  now  wants 
to  be  rich — very  rich.  She  tried  her  'prentice  hand  on 
Baron  Hulot,  and  soon  plucked  him  bare — plucked  him,  ay, 
and  singed  him  to  the  skin.  The  miserable  man,  after  trying 
to  vie  with  one  of  the  Kellers  and  with  the  Marquis  d'Esgrig- 
non,  both  perfectly  mad  about  Josepha,  to  say  nothing  of 
unknown  worshipers,  is  about  to  see  her  carried  off  by  that 
very  rich  duke,  who  is  such  a  patron  of  the  arts.  Oh,  what 
is  his  name? — a  dwarf.  Ah,  the  Due  d'Herouville.  This 
fine  gentleman  insists  on  having  Josepha  for  his  very  own,  and 
all  that  set  are  talking  about  it ;  the  baron  knows  nothing  of 
it  as  yet ;  for  it  is  the  same  in  the  thirteenth  arrondissement 
as  in  every  other :  the  lover,  like  the  husband,  is  last  to  get 
the  news. 

*'Now,  do  you  understand  my  claim?  Your  husband,  dear 
lady,  has  robbed  me  of  my  joy  in  life,  the  only  happiness  I 
have  known  since  I  became  a  widower.  Yes,  if  I  had  not 
been  so  unlucky  as  to  come  across  that  old  rip,  Josepha  would 
still  be  mine ;  for  I,  you  know,  should  never  have  placed  her 
on  the  stage.  She  would  have  lived  obscure,  well  conducted, 
and  mine.  Oh  !  if  you  could  but  have  seen  her  eight  years 
ago,  slight  and  wiry,  with  the  golden  skin  of  an  Andalusian, 
as  they  say,  black  hair  as  shiny  as  satin,  an  eye  that  flashed 
lightning  under  long  brown  lashes,  the  style  of  a  duchess  in 
every  movement,  the  modesty  of  a  dependent,  decent  grace, 
and  the  pretty  ways  of  a  wild  fawn.  And  by  that  Hulot 's 
doing  all  this  charm  and  purity  has  been  degraded  to  a  man- 
trap, a  money-box  for  five-franc  pieces !  The  girl  is  the 
Queen  of  Trollops  ;  and  nowadays  she  humbugs  every  one — 
she  who  knew  nothing,  not  even  that  word." 

At  this  stage  the  retired  perfumer  wiped  his  eyes,  which 
were  full  of  tears.     The  sincerity  of  his  grief  touched  Madame 


COUSIN  BETTY.  17 

Hulot,  and  roused  her  from  the  meditation  into  which  she 
had  sunk. 

"Tell  me,  madame,  is  a  man  of  fifty-two  likely  to  find 
such  another  jewel  ?  At  my  age  love  costs  thirty  thousand 
francs  a  year.  It  is  through  your  husband's  experience  that  I 
know  the  price,  and  I  love  Celestine  too  truly  to  be  her  ruin. 
When  I  saw  you,  at  the  first  evening  party  you  gave  in  our 
honor,  I  wondered  how  that  scoundrel  Hulot  could  keep  a 
Jenny  Cadine — you  had  the  manner  of  an  empress.  You  do 
not  look  thirty,"  he  went  on.  "To  me,  madame,  you  look 
young,  and  you  are  beautiful.  On  my  word  of  honor,  that 
evening  I  was  struck  to  the  heart.  I  said  to  myself,  *  If  I 
had  not  Josepha,  since  old  Hulot  neglects  his  wife,  she  would 
fit  me  like  a  glove.*  Forgive  me — it  is  a  reminiscence  of  my 
old  business.  The  perfumer  will  crop  up  now  and  then,  and 
that  is  what  keeps  me  from  standing  to  be  elected  deputy. 

"And  then,  when  I  was  so  abominably  deceived  by  the 
baron,  for  really  between  old  rips  like  us  our  friend's  mistress 
should  be  sacred,  I  swore  I  would  have  his  wife.  It  is  but 
justice.  The  baron  could  say  nothing ;  we  are  certain  of  im- 
punity. You  showed  me  the  door  like  a  mangy  dog  at  the 
first  words  I  uttered  as  to  the  state  of  my  feelings ;  you  only 
made  my  passion — my  obstinacy,  if  you  will — twice  as  strong, 
and  you  shall  be  mine." 

"Indeed;  how?" 

"I  do  not  know;  but  it  will  come  to  pass.  You  see, 
madame,  an  idiot  of  a  perfumer — retired  from  business — who 
has  but  one  idea  in  his  head,  is  a  stronger  man  than  a  clever 
fellow  who  has  a  thousand.  I  am  smitten  with  you,  and  you 
are  the  means  of  my  revenge ;  it  is  like  being  in  love  twice 
over.  I  am  speaking  to  you  quite  frankly,  as  a  man  who 
knows  what  he  means.  I  speak  coldly  to  you,  just  as  you  do 
to  me,  when  you  say,  '  I  never  will  be  yours.'  In  fact,  as  they 
say,  I  play  the  game  with  the  cards  on  the  table.  Yes,  you 
shall  be  mine,  sooner  or  later ;  if  you  were  fifty,  you  should 
2 


18  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

still  be  my  mistress.  And  it  will  be ;  for  I  expect  anything 
from  your  husband  !  " 

Madame  Hulot  looked  at  this  vulgar  intriguer  with  such 
a  fixed  stare  of  terror  that  he  thought  she  had  gone  mad, 
and  he  stopped. 

"You  insisted  on  it,  you  heaped  me  with  scorn,  you  defied 
me — and  I  have  spoken,"  said  he,  feeling  that  he  must  justify 
the  ferocity  of  his  last  words. 

**  Oh,  my  daughter,  my  daughter  !  "  moaned  the  baroness  in 
a  voice  like  a  dying  woman's. 

"Oh  !  I  have  forgotten  all  else,"  Crevel  went  on.  "  The 
day  when  I  was  robbed  of  Josepha  I  was  like  a  tigress  robbed 
of  her  cubs ;  in  short,  as  you  see  me  now.  Your  daughter  ? 
Yes,  I  regard  her  as  the  means  of  winning  you.  Yes,  I  put  a 
spoke  in  her  marriage — and  you  will  not  get  her  married  with- 
out my  help !  Handsome  as  Mademoiselle  Hortense  is,  she 
needs  a  fortune " 

"Alas  !  yes,"  said  the  baroness,  wiping  her  eyes. 

"Well,  just  ask  your  husband  for  ten  thousand  francs," 
said  Crevel,  striking  his  attitude  once  more.  He  waited  a 
minute,  like  an  actor  who  has  made  a  point. 

"  If  he  had  the  money,  he  would  give  it  to  the  woman  who 
will  take  Josepha's  place,"  he  went  on,  emphasizing  his  tones. 
"  Does  a  man  ever  pull  up  on  the  road  he  has  taken?  In  the 
first  place,  he  is  too  sweet  on  women.  There  is  a  happy 
medium  in  all  things,  as  our  King  has  told  us.  And  then  his 
vanity  is  implicated !  He  is  a  handsome  man  !  He  would 
bring  you  all  to  ruin  for  his  pleasure ;  in  fact,  you  are  already 
on  the  high  road  to  the  poorhouse.  Why,  look,  never  since 
I  first  set  foot  in  your  house  have  you  been  able  to  do  up  your 
drawing-room  furniture.  '  Hard  up '  is  the  word  shouted  by 
every  slit  in  the  stuff.  Where  will  you  find  a  son-in-law  who 
would  not  turn  his  back  in  horror  of  the  ill-concealed  evidence 
of  the  most  cruel  misery  there  is — that  of  people  in  decent 
society  ?    I  have  kept  store,  and  I  know.     There  is  no  eye  so 


COUSIN  BETTY.  19 

quick  as  that  of  the  Paris  tradesman  to  detect  real  wealth  from 
its  sham.  You  have  no  money,"  he  said,  in  a  lower  voice. 
"It  is  written  everywhere,  even  on  your  manservant's  coat. 

"  Would  you  like  me  to  disclose  any  more  hideous  mysteries 
that  are  kept  from  you?  " 

"  Monsieur,"  cried  Madame  Hulot,  whose  handkerchief 
was  wet  through  with  her  tears,  "  enough,  enough  !  " 

"My  son-in-law,  I  tell  you,  gives  his  father  money,  and 
this  is  what  I  particularly  wanted  to  come  to  when  I  began  by 
speaking  of  your  son's  expenses.  But  I  keep  an  eye  on  my 
daughter's  interests,  be  easy." 

"  Oh,  if  I  could  but  see  my  daughter  married,  and  die  !  " 
cried  the  poor  woman,  quite  losing  her  head. 

"Well,  then,  this  is  the  way,"  said  the  ex-perfumer. 

Madame  Hulot  looked  at  Crevel  with  a  hopeful  expression, 
which  so  completely  changed  her  countenance,  that  this  alone 
ought  to  have  touched  the  man's  feelings  and  have  led  him  to 
abandon  his  monstrous  schemes. 

"You  will  still  be  handsome  ten  years  hence,"  Crevel  went 
on,  with  his  arms  folded  ;  "be  kind  to  me,  and  Mademoiselle 
Hulot  will  marry.  Hulot  has  given  me  the  right,  as  I  have 
explained  to  you,  to  put  the  matter  crudely,  and  he  will  not 
be  angry.  In  three  years  I  have  saved  the  interest  on  my 
capital,  for  my  dissipations  have  been  restricted.  I  have 
three  hundred  thousand  francs  in  the  bank  over  and  above 
my  invested  fortune — they  are  yours " 

"Go,"  said  Madame  Hulot.  "Go,  monsieur,  and  never 
let  me  see  you  again.  But  for  the  necessity  in  which  you 
placed  me  to  learn  the  secret  of  your  cowardly  conduct  with 
regard  to  the  match  I  had  planned  for  Hortense — yes,  cow- 
ardly!" she  repeated,  in  answer  to  a  gesture  from  Crevel. 
"  How  can  you  load  a  poor  girl,  a  pretty  innocent  creature, 
with  such  a  weight  of  enmity?  But  for  the  necessity  that 
goaded  me  as  a  mother,  you  would  never  have  spoken  to  me 
again,  never  again  have  come  within  my  doors.     Thirty-two 


20  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

years  of  an  honorable  and  loyal  life  shall  not  be  swept  away 
by  a  blow  from  Monsieur  Crevel ' ' 

"The  retired  perfumer,  successor  to  Cesai  Birotteau  at  the 
Queen  of  the  Roses,  Rue  Saint-Honore,"  added  Crevel,  in 
mocking  tones.  "  Deputy-mayor,  captain  in  the  National 
Guard,  chevalier  of  the  Legion  of  Honor — exactly  what  my 
predecessor  was  !  " 

"Monsieur,"  said  the  baroness,  "if,  after  twenty  years  of 
constancy,  Monsieur  Hulot  is  tired  of  his  wife,  that  is  nobody's 
concern  but  mine.  As  you  see,  he  has  kept  his  infidelity  a 
mystery,  for  I  did  not  know  that  he  had  succeeded  you  in  the 
affections  of  Mademoiselle  Josepha " 

"Oh!  it  has  cost  him  a  pretty  penny,  madame.  His 
singing-bird  has  cost  him  more  than  a  hundred  thousand 
francs  xw  these  two  years.  Ah,  ha !  you  have  not  seen  the 
end  of  it!" 

"  Have  done  with  all  this,  Monsieur  Crevel.  I  will  not, 
for  your  sake,  forego  the  happiness  a  mother  knows  who  can 
embrace  her  children  without  a  single  pang  of  remorse  in  her 
heart,  who  sees  herself  respected  and  loved  by  her  family ; 
and  I  will  give  up  my  soul  to  God  unspotted " 

"Amen  !  "  exclaimed  Crevel,  with  the  diabolical  rage  that 
embitters  the  face  of  these  pretenders  when  they  fail  for  the 
second  time  in  such  an  attempt.  "You  do  not  yet  know  the 
latter  end  of  poverty — shame,  disgrace.  I  have  tried  to  warn 
you  ;  I  could  have  saved  you,  you  and  your  daughter.  Well, 
you  must  study  the  modern  parable  of  the  '  Prodigal  Father ' 
from  A  to  Z.  Your  tears  and  your  pride  move  me  deeply," 
said  Crevel,  seating  himself,  "  for  it  is  frightful  to  see  the 
woman  one  loves  weeping.  All  I  can  promise  you,  dear 
Adeline,  is  to  do  nothing  against  your  interests  or  your  hus- 
band's. Only  never  send  to  me  for  information.  That 
is  all." 

"What  is  to  be  done?"  cried  Madame  Hulot. 

Up  till  now  the  baroness  had  bravely  faced  the  threefold 


COUSIN  BETTY.  21 

torment  which  this  explanation  inflicted  on  her;  for  she  was 
wounded  as  a  woman,  as  a  mother,  and  as  a  wife.  In  fact,  so 
long  as  her  son's  father-in-law  was  insolent  and  offensive,  she 
had  found  strength  in  her  resistance  to  the  aggressive  trades- 
man ;  but  the  sort  of  good-nature  he  showed,  in  spite  of  his 
exasperation  as  a  mortified  adorer  and  as  a  humiliated  National 
Guardsman,  broke  down  her  nerve,  strung  to  the  point  of 
snapping.  She  wrung  her  hands,  melted  into  tears,  and  was 
in  a  state  of  such  helpless  dejection,  that  she  allowed  Crevel 
to  kneel  at  her  feet,  kissing  her  hands. 

"Good  God!  what  will  become  of  us?"  she  went  on, 
wiping  away  her  tears.  "  Can  a  mother  sit  still  and  see  her 
child  pine  away  before  her  eyes  ?  What  is  to  be  the  fate  of 
that  splendid  creature,  as  strong  in.  her  pure  life  under  her 
mother's  care  as  she  is  by  every  gift  of  nature?  There  are 
days  when  she  wanders  round  the  garden,  out  of  spirits  with- 
out knowing  why;  I  find  her  with  tears  in  her  eyes " 

"She  is  one-and-twenty,"  said  Crevel. 

"Must  I  place  her  in  a  convent?"  asked  the  baroness. 
"  But  in  such  cases  religion  is  impotent  to  subdue  nature,  and 
the  most  piously  trained  girls  lose  their  head  !  Get  up,  pray, 
monsieur;  do  you  not  understand  that  everything  is  final 
between  us  ?  that  I  look  upon  you  with  horror  ?  that  you  have 
crushed  a  mother's  last  hopes " 

"  But  if  I  were  to  restore  them  ?  "  asked  he. 

Madame  Hulot  looked  at  Crevel  with  a  frenzied  expression 
that  really  touched  him.  But  he  drove  pity  back  to  the 
depths  of  his  heart ;  she  had  said  :  "  I  look  upon  you  with 
horror." 

Virtue  is  always  a  little  too  rigid  ;  it  overlooks  the  shades 
and  instincts  by  help  of  which  we  are  able  to  tack  when  in  a 
false  position. 

"  So  handsome  a  girl  as  Mademoiselle  Hortense  does  not 
find  a  husband  nowadays  if  she  is  penniless,"  Crevel  remarked, 
resuming  his  starchest  manner,     "Your  daughter  is  one  of 


22  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

those  beauties  who  rather  alarm  intending  husbands ;  like  a 
thoroughbred  horse,  which  is  too  expensive  to  keep  up  to  find 
a  ready  purchaser.  If  you  go  out  walking  with  such  a  woman 
on  your  arm,  every  one  will  turn  to  look  at  you,  and  follow 
and  covet  his  neighbor's  wife.  Such  success  is  a  source  of 
much  uneasiness  to  men  who  do  not  want  to  be  killing  lovers  ; 
for,  after  all,  no  man  kills  more  than  one.  In  the  position  in 
which  you  find  yourself  there  are  just  three  ways  of  getting 
your  daughter  married :  Either  by  my  help — and  you  will 
have  none  of  it !  That  is  one.  Or  by  finding  some  old  man 
of  sixty,  very  rich,  childless,  and  anxious  to  have  children ; 
that  is  difficult,  still  such  men  are  to  be  met  with.  Many  old 
men  take  up  with  a  Josepha,  a  Jenny  Cadine,  why  should  not 
one  be  found  who  is  ready  to  make  a  fool  of  himself  under 
legal  formalities?  If  it  were  not  for  Celestine  and  our  two 
grandchildren,  I  would  marry  Hortense  myself.  That  is  two. 
The  last  way  is  the  easiest " 

Madame  Hulot  raised  her  head,  and  looked  uneasily  at  the 
ex-perfumer. 

"Paris  is  a  town  whither  every  man  of  energy — and  they 
sprout  like  saplings  on  French  soil — comes  to  meet  his  kind  ; 
talent  swarms  here  without  hearth  or  home,  and  energy  equal 
to  anything,  even  to  making  a  fortune.  Well,  these  young- 
sters— your  humble  servant  was  such  an  one  in  his  time,  and 
how  many  he  has  known  !  What  had  du  Tillet  or  Popinot 
twenty  years  since?  They  were  both  pottering  round  in 
Daddy  Birotteau's  store,  with  not  a  penny  of  capital  but  their 
determination  to  get  on,  which,  in  my  opinion,  is  the  best 
capital  a  man  can  have.  Money  may  be  eaten  through,  but 
you  don't  eat  through  your  determination.  Why,  what  had 
I?  The  will  to  get  on,  and  plenty  of  pluck.  At  this  day  du 
Tillet  is  a  match  for  the  greatest  folk ;  little  Popinot,  the 
richest  druggist  of  the  Rue  des  Lombards,  became  a  deputy, 
now  he  is  in  office.  Well,  one  of  these  free-lances,  as  we  say 
on  the  stock  market,  of  the  pen,  or  of  the  brush,  is  the  only 


COUSIN  BETTY.  23 

man  in  Paris  who  would  marry  a  penniless  beauty,  for  they 
have  courage  enough  for  anything.  Monsieur  Popinot  married 
Mademoiselle  Birotteau  without  asking  for  a  farthing.  Those 
men  are  madmen,  to  be  sure !  They  trust  in  love  as  they 
trust  in  good-luck  and  brains !  Find  a  man  of  energy  who 
will  fall  in  love  with  your  daughter,  and  he  will  marry  without 
a  thought  of  money.  You  must  confess  that  by  way  of  an 
enemy  I  am  not  ungenerous,  for  this  advice  is  against  my  own 
interests." 

"Oh,  Monsieur  Crevel,  if  you  would  indeed  be  my  friend 
and  give  up  your  ridiculous  notions " 

"Ridiculous?  Madame,  do  not  run  yourself  down.  Look 
at  yourself — I  love  you,  and  you  will  come  to  be  mine.  The 
day  will  come  when  I  shall  say  to  Hulot :  *  You  took  Josepha, 
I  have  taken  your  wife  !  ' 

"  It  is  the  old  law  of  tit-for-tat !  And  I  will  persevere  till 
I  have  attained  my  end,  unless  you  should  become  extremely 
ugly.  I  shall  succeed ;  and  I  will  tell  you  why,"  he  went  on, 
resuming  his  attitude,  and  looking  at  Madame  Hulot.  "You 
will  not  meet  with  such  an  old  man,  or  such  a  young  lover," 
he  said  after  a  pause,  "because  you  love  your  daughter  too 
well  to  hand  her  over  to  the  manoeuvres  of  an  old  libertine, 
and  because  you — the  Baronne  Hulot,  sister  of  the  old  lieu- 
tenant-general who  commanded  the  veteran  grenadiers  of  the 
Old  Guard — will  not  condescend  to  take  a  man  of  spirit 
wherever  you  may  find  him;  for  he  might  be  a  mere  crafts- 
man, as  many  a  millionaire  of  to-day  was  ten  years  ago,  a 
working  artisan,  or  the  foreman  of  a  factory. 

"And  then,  when  you  see  the  girl,  urged  by  her  twenty 
years,  capable  of  dishonoring  you  all,  you  will  say  to  yourself, 
'  It  will  be  better  that  I  should  fall !  If  Monsieur  Crevel  will 
but  keep  my  secret,  I  will  earn  my  daughter's  portion — two 
hundred  thousand  francs  for  ten  years'  attachment  to  that  old 
glove-seller — old  Crevel ! '  I  disgust  you  no  doubt,  and  what 
I  am  saying  is  horribly  immoral,   you  think?     But  if  you 


24  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

happened  to  have  been  bitten  by  an  overwhelming  passion, 
you  would  find  a  thousand  arguments  in  favor  of  yielding — 
as  women  do  when  they  are  in  love.  Yes,  and  Hortense's 
interests  will  suggest  to  your  feelings  such  terms  of  surrender- 
ing your  conscience " 

"  Hortense  has  still  an  uncle." 

"What!  Old  Fischer?  He  is  winding  up  his  concerns, 
and  that  again  is  the  baron's  fault ;  his  rake  is  dragged  over 
every  cash-drawer  within  his  reach." 

"Comte  Hulot " 

"Oh,  madame,  your  husband  has  already  made  thin  air 
of  the  old  general's  savings.  He  spent  them  in  furnishing 
his  singer's  rooms.  Now,  come;  am  I  to  go  without  a 
hope?" 

"  Good-by,  monsieur.  A  man  easily  gets  over  a  passion 
for  a  woman  of  my  age,  and  you  will  fall  back  on  Christian 
principles. 

"  God  takes  care  of  the  wretched " 

The  baroness  rose  to  oblige  the  captain  to  retreat,  and 
drove  him  back  into  the  drawing-room. 

"  Ought  the  beautiful  Madame  Hulot  to  be  living  amid  such 
squalor?"  said  he,  and  he  pointed  to  an  old  lamp,  a  chande- 
lier bereft  of  its  gilding,  the  threadbare  carpet,  the  very  rags 
of  wealth  which  made  the  large  room,  with  its  red,  white,  and 
gold,  look  like  a  corpse  of  Imperial  festivities. 

"  Monsieur,  virtue  shines  on  it  all.  I  have  no  wish  to  owe 
a  handsome  abode  to  having  made  of  the  beauty  you  are 
pleased  to  ascribe  to  me  a  man-trap  and  a  money-box  for  five- 
franc  pieces  ! ' ' 

The  captain  bit  his  lip  as  he  recognized  the  words  he  had 
used  to  vilify  Jos6pha's  avarice. 

"And  for  whom  are  you  so  magnanimous?"  said  he.  By 
this  time  the  baroness  had  got  her  rejected  admirer  as  far  as 
the  door.  "  For  a  libertine  !  "  said  he,  with  a  lofty  grimace 
of  virtue  and  superior  wealth. 


COUSIN  BETTY.  25 

"  If  you  are  right,  my  constancy  has  some  merit,  monsieur. 
That  is  all." 

After  bowing  to  the  officer  as  a  woman  bows  to  dismiss  an 
importunate  visitor,  she  turned  away  too  quickly  to  see  him 
once  more  fold  his  arms.  She  unlocked  the  doors  she  had 
closed,  and  did  not  see  the  threatening  gesture  which  was 
Crevel's  parting  greeting.  She  walked  with  a  proud,  defiant 
step,  like  a  martyr  to  the  Coliseum,  but  her  strength  was  ex- 
hausted ;  she  sank  on  the  sofa  in  her  blue  room,  as  if  she 
were  ready  to  faint,  and  sat  there  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the 
tumble-down  summer-house,  where  her  daughter  was  gossiping 
with  Cousin  Betty. 

From  the  first  days  of  her  married  life  to  the  present  time 
the  baroness  had  loved  her  husband,  as  Josephine  in  the  end 
had  loved  Napoleon,  with  an  admiring,  maternal,  and  cowardly 
devotion.  Though  ignorant  of  the  details  given  her  by  Crevel, 
she  knew  that  for  twenty  years  past  Baron  Hulot  had  been 
anything  rather  than  a  faithful  husband ;  but  she  had  sealed 
her  eyes  with  lead,  she  had  wept  in  silence,  and  no  word  of 
reproach  had  ever  escaped  her.  In  return  for  this  angelic 
sweetness,  she  had  won  her  husband's  veneration  and  some- 
thing approaching  to  worship  from  all  who  were  about  her. 

A  wife's  affection  for  her  husband  and  the  respect  she  pays 
him  are  infectious  in  a  family.  Hortense  believed  her  father 
to  be  a  perfect  model  of  conjugal  affection;  as  to  their  son, 
brought  up  to  admire  the  baron,  whom  everybody  regarded 
as  one  of  the  giants  who  so  eflfectually  backed  Napoleon,  he 
knew  that  he  owed  his  advancement  to  his  father's  name, 
position,  and  credit;  and,  beside,  the  impressions  of  child- 
hood exert  an  enduring  influence.  He  still  was  afraid  of  his 
father;  and  if  he  had  suspected  the  misdeeds  revealed  by 
Crevel,  as  he  was  too  much  overawed  by  him  to  find  fault,  he 
would  have  found  excuses  in  the  view  every  man  takes  of  such 
matters. 


26  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

It  will  now  be  necessary  to  give  the  reasons  for  the  extra- 
ordinary self-devotion  of  a  good  and  beautiful  woman  ;  and 
this,  in  a  few  words,  is  her  past  history : 

Three  brothers,  simple  laboring  men,  named  Fischer,  and 
living  in  a  village  situated  on  the  farthest  frontier  of  Lorraine, 
were  compelled  by  the  Republican  conscription  to  set  out  with 
the  so-called  army  of  the  Rhine. 

In  1799  the  second  brother,  Andre,  a  widower,  and 
Madame  Hulot's  father,  left  his  daughter  to  the  care  of  his 
elder  brother,  Pierre  Fischer,  disabled  from  service  by  a 
wound  received  in  1797,  and  made  a  small  private  venture 
in  the  military  transport  service,  an  opening  he  owed  to  the 
favor  of  Hulot  d'Ervy,  who  was  high  in  the  commissariat. 
By  a  very  obvious  chance  Hulot,  coming  to  Strasbourg,  saw 
the  Fischer  family.  Adeline's  father  and  his  younger  brother 
were  at  that  time  contractors  for  forage  in  the  province  of 
Alsace. 

Adeline,  then  sixteen  years  of  age,  might  be  compared  with 
the  famous  Madame  du  Barry,  like  her,  a  daughter  of  Lor- 
raine. She  was  one  of  those  perfect  and  striking  beauties — a 
woman  like  Madame  Tallien,  finished  with  peculiar  care  by 
Nature,  who  bestows  on  them  all  her  choicest  gifts — distinc- 
tion, dignity,  grace,  refinement,  elegance,  flesh  of  a  superior 
texture,  and  a  complexion  mingled  in  the  unknown  laboratory 
where  good-luck  presides.  These  beautiful  creatures  all  have 
something  in  common  :  Bianca  Capella,  whose  portrait  is  one 
of  Bronzino's  masterpieces  ;  Jean  Goujon's  Venus,  painted 
from  the  famous  Diane  de  Poitiers  ;  Signora  Olympia,  whose 
picture  adorns  the  Doria  gallery;  Ninon,  Madame  du  Barry, 
Madame  Tallien,  Mademoiselle  Georges,  Madame  Recamier 
— all  these  women  who  preserved  their  beauty  in  spite  of  years, 
of  passion,  and  of  their  life  of  excess  and  pleasure,  have  in 
figure,  frame,  and  in  the  character  of  their  beauty  certain 
striking  resemblances,  enough  to  make  one  believe  that  there 


COUSIN  BETTY.  27 

is  in  the  ocean  of  generations  an  Aphrodisian  current  whence 
every  such  Venus  is  born,  all  daughters  of  the  same  salt-wave. 

Adeline  Fischer,  one  of  the  loveliest  of  this  race  of  god- 
desses, had  the  splendid  type,  the  flowing  lines,  the  exquisite 
texture  of  a  woman  born  a  queen.  The  fair  hair  that  our 
mother  Eve  received  from  the  hand  of  God,  the  form  of  an 
empress,  an  air  of  grandeur,  and  an  august  line  of  profile,  with 
her  rural  modesty,  made  every  man  pause  in  delight  as  she 
passed,  like  amateurs  in  front  of  a  Raphael ;  in  short,  having 
once  seen  her,  the  commissariat  officer  made  Mademoiselle 
Adeline  Fischer  his  wife  as  quickly  as  the  law  would  permit, 
to  the  great  astonishment  of  the  Fischers,  who  had  all  been 
brought  up  in  the  fear  of  their  betters. 

The  eldest,  a  soldier  of  1792,  severely  wounded  in  the  attack 
on  the  lines  at  Wissembourg,  adored  the  Emperor  Napoleon 
and  everything  that  had  to  do  with  the  Grand  Army.  Andre 
and  Johann  spoke  with  respect  of  Commissary  Hulot,  the 
Emperor's  protege,  to  whom  indeed  they  owed  their  pros- 
perity; for  Hulot  d'Ervy,  finding  them  intelligent  and  honest, 
had  taken  them  from  the  army  provision  wagons  to  place  them 
in  charge  of  a  government  contract  needing  dispatch.  The 
brothers  Fischer  had  done  further  service  during  the  campaign 
of  1804.  At  the  peace  Hulot  had  secured  for  them  the  con- 
tract for  forage  from  Alsace,  not  knowing  that  he  would 
presently  be  sent  to  Strasbourg  to  prepare  for  the  coming  cam- 
paign of  1806. 

This  marriage  was  like  an  Assumption  tothe  young  peasant 
girl.  The  beautiful  Adeline  was  translated  at  once  from  the 
mire  of  her  village  to  the  paradise  of  the  Imperial  Court ;  for 
the  contractor,  one  of  the  most  conscientious  and  hardworking 
of  the  commissariat  staff,  was  made  a  baron,  obtained  a  place 
near  the  Emperor,  and  was  attached  to  the  Imperial  Guard. 
The  handsome  rustic  bravely  set  to  work  to  educate  herself 
for  love  of  her  husband,  for  she  was  simply  crazy  about  him ; 
and,  indeed,  the  commissariat  ofl&cer  was  as  a  man  a  perfect 


28  THE  POOR   PARENTS. 

match  for  Adeline  as  a  woman.  He  was  one  of  the  picked 
corps  of  fine  men.  Tall,  well-built,  fair,  with  beautiful  blue 
eyes  full  of  irresistible  fire  and  life,  his  elegant  appearance 
made  him  remarkable  by  the  side  of  d'Orsay,  Forbin,  Ouvrard; 
in  short,  in  the  battalion  of  fine  men  that  surrounded  the 
Emperor.  A  conquering  "buck,"  and  holding  the  ideas  of 
the  Directory  with  regard  to  women,  his  career  of  gallantry 
was  interrupted  for  some  long  time  by  his  conjugal  affection. 

To  Adeline  the  baron  was  from  the  first  a  sort  of  god  who 
could  do  no  wrong.  To  him  she  owed  everything :  fortune — 
she  had  a  carriage,  a  fine  house,  every  luxury  of  the  day; 
happiness — he  was  devoted  to  her  in  the  face  of  the  world  ;  a 
title,  for  she  was  a  baroness ;  fame,  for  she  was  spoken  of  as 
the  beautiful  Madame  Hulot — and  in  Paris  !  Finally,  she  had 
the  honor  of  refusing  the  Emperor's  advances,  for  Napoleon 
made  her  a  present  of  a  diamond  necklace,  and  always  remem- 
bered her,  asking  now  and  again :  **  And  is  the  beautiful 
Madame  Hulot  still  a  model  of  virtue?"  in  the  tone  of  a  man 
who  might  have  taken  his  revenge  on  one  who  should  have 
triumphed  where  he  had  failed. 

So  it  needs  no  great  intuition  to  discern  what  were  the 
motives  in  a  simple,  guileless,  and  noble  soul  for  the  fanati- 
cism of  Madame  Hulot's  love.  Having  fully  persuaded  herself 
that  her  husband  could  do  her  no  wrong,  she  made  herself  in 
the  depths  of  her  heart  the  humble,  abject,  and  blindfold 
slave  of  the  man  who  had  made  her.  It  must  be  noted,  too, 
that  she  was  gifted  with  great  good  sense — the  good  sense  of 
the  people,  which  made  her  education  sound.  In  society  she 
spoke  little,  and  never  spoke  evil  of  any  one ;  she  did  not  try 
to  shine ;  she  thought  out  many  things,  listened  well,  and 
formed  herself  on  the  model  of  the  best-conducted  women  of 
good  birth. 

In  1 8 15  Hulot  followed  the  lead  of  the  Prince  de  Wissem- 
bourg,  his  intimate  friend,  and  became  one  of  the  oflficers 
who  organized  the  improvised  troops  whose  rout  brought  the 


COUSIN  BETTY.  29 

Napoleonic  cycle  to  a  close  at  Waterloo.  In  1816  the  baron 
was  one  of  the  men  best  hated  by  the  Feltre  administration, 
and  was  not  reinstated  in  the  commissariat  till  1823,  when  he 
was  needed  for  the  Spanish  war.  In  1830  he  took  office  as  the 
fourth  wheel  of  the  coach,  at  the  time  of  the  levies,  a  sort  of 
conscription  made  by  Louis  Philippe  on  the  old  Napoleonic 
soldiery.  From  the  time  when  the  younger  branch  ascended 
the  throne,  having  taking  an  active  part  in  bringing  that 
about,  he  was  regarded  as  an  indispensable  authority  at  the 
War  Office.  He  had  already  won  his  marshal's  baton,  and 
the  King  could  do  no  more  for  him  unless  by  making  him 
minister  or  a  peer  of  France. 

From  1818  till  1823,  having  no  official  occupation,  Baron 
Hulot  had  gone  on  active  service  to  womankind.  Madame 
Hulot  dated  her  Hector's  first  infidelities  from  the  grand 
finale  of  the  Empire.  Thus,  for  twelve  years  the  baroness 
had  filled  the  part  in  her  household  of  prima  donna  assoluia, 
without  a  rival.  She  still  could  boast  of  the  old-fashioned, 
inveterate  affection  which  husbands  feel  for  wives  who  are 
resigned  to  be  gentle  and  virtuous  helpmates ;  she  knew  that 
if  she  had  a  rival,  that  rival  would  not  subsist  for  two  hours 
under  a  word  of  reproof  from  herself;  but  she  shut  her  eyes, 
she  stopped  her  ears,  she  would  know  nothing  of  her  husband's 
proceedings  outside  his  home.  In  short,  she  treated  her 
Hector  as  a  mother  treats  a  spoilt  child. 

Three  years  before  the  conversation  reported  above, 
Hortense,  at  the  Theatre  des  Varietes,  had  recognized  her 
father  in  a  lower  tier  stage-box  with  Jenny  Cadine,  and  had 
exclaimed — 

"  There  is  papa!  " 

"You  are  mistaken,  my  darling;  he  is  at  the  marshal's," 
the  baroness  replied. 

She  too  had  seen  Jenny  Cadine;  but  instead  of  feeling  a 
pang  when  she  saw  how  pretty  she  was,  she  said  to  herself, 
"That  rascal  Hector  must  think  himself  very  lucky." 


30  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

She  suffered  nevertheless;  she  gave  herself  up  in  secret  to 
lages  of  torment ;  but  as  soon  as  she  saw  Hector,  she  always 
remembered  her  twelve  years  of  perfect  happiness,  and  could 
i.ot  find  it  in  her  to  utter  a  word  of  complaint.  She  would  have 
been  glad  if  the  baron  would  have  taken  her  into  his  confi- 
dence ;  i,ut  she  never  dared  to  let  him  see  that  she  knew  of  his 
kicking  o>er  the  traces,  out  of  respect  for  her  husband. 
Such  an  excess  of  delicacy  is  never  met  with  but  in  those 
grand  creatures,  daughters  of  the  soil,  whose  instinct  it  is  to 
take  blows  without  ever  returning  them  ;  the  blood  of  the 
early  martyrs  still  lives  in  their  veins.  Well-born  women, 
their  husbands'  equals,  feel  the  impulse  to  annoy  them,  to 
mark  the  points  of  their  tolerance,  like  points  at  billiards,  by 
some  stinging  word,  partly  in  a  spirit  of  diabolical  malice,  and 
to  secure  the  upper  hand  or  the  right  of  turning  the  tables. 

The  baroness  had  an  ardent  admirer  in  her  brother-in-law, 
Lieutenant-General  Hulot,  the  venerable  colonel  of  the  Grena- 
diers of  the  Imperial  Infantry  Guard,  who  was  to  have  a  mar- 
shal's baton  in  his  old  age.  This  veteran,  after  having  served 
from  1830  to  1834  as  commandant  of  the  military  division, 
including  the  departments  of  Brittany,  the  scene  of  his  exploits 
in  1799  and  1800,  had  come  to  settle  in  Paris  near  his  brother, 
for  whom  he  had  a  fatherly  affection. 

This  old  soldier's  heart  was  in  sympathy  with  his  sister-in- 
law  ;  he  admired  her  as  the  noblest  and  saintliest  of  her  sex. 
He  had  never  married,  because  he  hoped  to  find  a  second 
Adeline,  though  he  had  vainly  sought  for  her  through  twenty 
campaigns  in  as  many  lands.  To  maintain  her  place  in  the 
esteem  of  this  blameless  and  spotless  old  republican — of  whom 
Napoleon  had  said  :  "  That  brave  old  Hulot  is  the  most  obsti- 
nate republican,  but  he  will  never  be  false  to  me  " — Adeline 
would  have  endured  griefs  even  greater  than  those  that  had 
just  come  upon  her.  But  the  old  soldier,  seventy-two  years 
of  age,  battered  by  thirty  campaigns,  and  wounded  for  the 
twenty-seventh  time  at  Waterloo,  was  Adeline's  admirer,  and 


COUSIN  BETTY.  31 

not  a  "protector."  The  poor  old  count,  among  other  in- 
firmities, could  only  hear  through  a  speaking  trumpet. 

So  long  as  Baron  Hulot  d'Ervy  was  a  fine  man,  his  flirta- 
tions did  not  damage  his  fortune  \  but  when  a  man  is  fifty, 
the  Graces  claim  payment.  At  that  age  love  becomes  vice ; 
insensate  vanities  come  into  play.  Thus,  at  about  that  time, 
Adeline  saw  that  her  husband  was  incredibly  particular  about 
his  dress  ;  he  dyed  his  hair  and  whiskers,  and  wore  a  belt  and 
stays.  He  was  determined  to  remain  handsome  at  any  cost. 
This  care  of  his  person,  a  weakness  he  had  once  mercilessly 
mocked  at,  was  carried  out  in  the  minutest  details. 

At  last  Adeline  perceived  that  the  Pactolus  poured  out  be- 
fore the  baron's  mistresses  had  its  source  in  her  pocket.  In 
eight  years  he  had  dissipated  a  considerable  amount  of  money ; 
and  so  effectually,  that,  on  his  son's  marriage  two  years  pre- 
viously, the  baron  had  been  compelled  to  explain  to  his  wife 
that  his  pay  constituted  their  whole  income. 

"  What  shall  we  come  to  ?  "  asked  Adeline. 

"  Be  quite  easy,"  said  the  official,  "  I  will  leave  the  whole 
of  my  salary  in  your  hands,  and  I  will  make  a  fortune  for 
Hortense,  and  some  savings  for  the  future,  in  business." 

The  wife's  deep  belief  in  her  husband's  power  and  superior 
talents,  in  his  capabilities  and  character,  had,  in  fact,  for  the 
moment  allayed  her  anxiety. 

What  the  baroness'  reflections  and  tears  were  after  Crevel's 
departure  may  now  be  clearly  imagined.  The  poor  woman 
had  for  two  years  past  known  that  she  was  at  the  bottom  of  a 
pit,  but  she  had  fancied  herself  alone  in  it.  How  her  son's 
marriage  had  been  finally  arranged  she  had  not  known  ;  she 
had  known  nothing  of  Hector's  connection  with  the  grasping 
Jewess  ;  and,  above  all,  she  hoped  that  no  one  in  the  world 
knew  anything  of  her  troubles.  Now,  if  Crevel  went  about 
so  ready  to  talk  of  the  baron's  excesses,  Hector's  reputation 
would  suffer.  She  could  see,  under  the  angry  ex/perfumer's 
coarse  harangue,  the  odious  gossip  behind  the  scenes  which 


82  THE  POOR   PARENTS. 

had  led  to  her  son's  marriage.  Two  reprobate  hussies  had 
been  the  priestesses  of  this  union  planned  at  some  orgy  amid 
the  degrading  familiarities  of  two  tipsy  old  sinners. 

*'  And  has  he  forgotten  Hortense  ? "  she  wondered.  "But 
he  sees  her  every  day ;  will  he  try  to  find  her  a  husband  among 
his  good-for-nothing  sluts  ?  " 

At  this  moment  it  was  the  mother  that  spoke  rather  than 
the  wife,  for  she  saw  Hortense  laughing  with  her  Cousin  Betty 
— the  reckless  laughter  of  heedless  youth  ;  and  she  knew  that 
such  hysterical  laughter  was  quite  as  distressing  a  symptom  as 
the  tearful  reverie  of  solitary  walks  in  the  garden. 

Hortense  was  like  her  mother,  with  golden  hair  that  waved 
naturally,  and  was  amazingly  long  and  thick.  Her  skin  had 
the  lustre  of  mother-of-pearl.  She  was  visibly  the  offspring 
of  a  true  marriage,  of  a  pure  and  noble  love  in  its  prime. 
There  was  a  passionate  vitality  in  her  countenance,  a  brilliancy 
of  feature,  a  full  font  of  youth,  a  fresh  vigor  and  abundance 
of  health,  which  radiated  from  her  with  electric  flashes.  Hor- 
tense invited  the  eye. 

When  her  eye,  of  a  deep  ultramarine  blue,  liquid  with  the 
moisture  of  innocent  youth,  rested  on  a  passer-by,  he  was  in- 
voluntarily thrilled.  Nor  did  a  single  freckle  mar  her  skin, 
such  as  those  with  which  many  a  white  and  golden  maid  pays 
toll  for  her  milky  whiteness.  Tall,  round  without  being  fat, 
with  a  slender  dignity  as  noble  as  her  mother's,  she  really  de- 
served the  name  of  goddess,  of  which  old  authors  were  so 
lavish.  In  fact,  those  who  saw  Hortense  in  the  street  could 
hardly  restrain  the  exclamation,  *'  What  a  beautiful  girl  !  " 

She  was  so  genuinely  innocent,  that  she  could  say  to  her 
mother — 

**  What  do  they  mean,  mamma,  by  calling  me  a  beautiful 
girl  when  I  am  with  you  ?  Are  you  not  much  handsomer 
than  I  am?" 

And,  in  point  of  fact,  at  seven-and-forty  the  baroness  might 
have  been  preferred  to  her  daughter  by  amateurs  of  sunset 


COUSIN  BETTY.  33 

beauty  \  for  she  had  not  yet  lost  any  of  her  charms,  by  one  of 
those  phenomena  which  are  especially  rare  in  Paris,  where 
Ninon  was  regarded  as  scandalous,  simply  because  she  thus 
seemed  to  enjoy  such  an  unfair  advantage  over  the  plainer 
women  of  the  seventeenth  century. 

Thinking  of  her  daughter  brought  her  back  to  the  father ; 
she  saw  him  sinking  by  degrees,  day  after  day,  down  to  the 
social  mire,  and  even  dismissed  some  day  from  his  appoint- 
ment. The  idea  of  her  idol's  fall,  with  a  vague  vision  of  the 
disasters  prophesied  by  Crevel,  was  such  a  terror  to  the  poor 
woman,  that  she  became  rapt  in  the  contemplation  like  an 
ecstatic. 

Cousin  Betty,  from  time  to  time,  as  she  chatted  with  Hor- 
tense,  looked  round  to  see  when  they  might  return  to  the 
drawing-room ;  but  her  young  cousin  was  pelting  her  with 
questions,  and  at  the  moment  when  the  baroness  opened  the 
glass  door  she  did  not  happen  to  be  looking. 

Lisbeth  Fischer,  though  the  daughter  of  the  eldest  of  the 
three  brothers,  was  five  years  younger  than  Madame  Hulot ; 
she  was  far  from  being  as  handsome  as  her  cousin,  and  had 
been  desperately  jealous  of  Adeline.  Jealousy  was  the  funda- 
mental passion  of  this  character,  marked  by  eccentricities — 
a  word  invented  by  the  English  to  describe  the  craziness  not 
of  the  asylum,  but  of  respectable  households.  A  native  of  the 
Vosges,  a  peasant  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  word,  lean,  brown, 
with  shining  black  hair  and  thick  eyebrows  joining  in  a  tuft, 
with  long,  strong  arms,  thick  feet,  and  some  moles  on  her 
narrow  simian  face — such  is  a  brief  description  of  the  elderly 
virgin. 

The  family,  living  all  under  one  roof,  had  sacrificed  the 
common-looking  girl  to  the  beauty,  the  bitter  fruit  to  the 
splendid  flower.  Lisbeth  worked  in  the  fields,  while  her 
cousin  was  indulged  ;  and  one  day,  when  they  were  alone 
together,  she  had  tried  to  destroy  Adeline's  nose,  a  truly 
3 


34  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

Greek  nose,  which  the  old  master's  admired.  Though  she 
was  beaten  for  this  misdeed,  she  persisted  nevertheless  in 
tearing  the  favorite's  gowns  and  crumpling  her  collars. 

At  the  time  of  Adeline's  wonderful  marriage,  Lisbcth  had 
bowed  to  fate,  as  Napoleon's  brothers  and  sisters  bowed 
before  the  splendor  of  the  throne  and  the  force  of  authority. 

Adeline,  who  was  extremely  sweet  and  kind,  remembered 
Lisbeth  when  she  found  herself  in  Paris,  and  invited  her  there 
in  1809,  intending  to  rescue  her  from  poverty  by  finding  her 
a  husband.  But  seeing  that  it  was  impossible  to  marry  the 
girl  out  of  hand,  with  her  black  eyes  and  sooty  brows,  unable 
either  to  read  or  write,  the  baron  began  by  apprenticing  her 
to  a  business ;  he  placed  her  as  a  learner  with  the  embroiderers 
to  the  Imperial  Court,  the  well-known  Pons  Brothers. 

Lisbeth,  called  Betty  for  short,  having  learned  to  embroider 
in  gold  and  silver,  and  possessing  all  the  energy  of  a  mountain 
race,  had  determination  enough  to  learn  to  read,  write,  and 
keep  accounts;  for  her  cousin  the  baron  had  pointed  out  the 
necessity  for  these  accomplishments  if  she  hoped  to  set  up  in 
business  as  an  embroiderer. 

She  was  bent  on  making  a  fortune ;  in  two  years  she  was 
another  creature.  In  181 1  the  peasant  woman  had  become  a 
very  presentable,  skilled,  and  intelligent  forewoman. 

Her  department,  that  of  gold  and  silver  lace-work,  as  it  is 
called,  included  epaulettes,  sword-knots,  aiguillettes ;  in  short, 
the  immense  mass  of  glittering  ornaments  that  sparkled  on  the 
rich  uniforms  of  the  French  army  and  civil  officials.  The 
Emperor,  a  true  Italian  in  his  love  of  dress,  had  overlaid  the 
coats  of  all  his  servants  with  silver  and  gold,  and  the  Empire 
included  a  hundred  and  thirty-three  Departments.  These 
ornaments,  usually  supplied  to  tailors  who  were  solvent  and 
wealthy  paymasters,  were  a  very  secure  branch  of  trade. 

Just  when  Cousin  Betty,  the  best  hand  in  the  house  of  Pons 
Brothers,  where  she  was  forewoman  of  the  embroidery  depart- 
ment, might  h^ve  set  up  in  business  on  her  own  account,  the 


COUSIN  BETTY.  35 

Empire  collapsed.  The  olive-branch  of  peace  held  out  by  the 
Bourbons  did  not  reassure  Lisbeth ;  she  feared  a  diminution 
of  this  branch  of  trade,  since  henceforth  there  were  to  be  but 
the  eighty-six  Departments  to  plunder,  instead  of  a  hundred 
and  thirty-three,  to  say  nothing  of  the  immense  reduction  of 
the  army.  Utterly  scared  by  the  ups  and  downs  of  industry, 
she  refused  the  baron's  offers  of  help,  and  he  thought  she  must 
be  mad.  She  confirmed  this  opinion  by  quarreling  with 
Monsieur  Rivet,  who  bought  the  business  of  Pons  Brothers, 
and  with  whom  the  baron  wished  to  place  her  in  partnership ; 
she  would  be  no  more  than  a  workwoman.  Thus  the  Fischer 
family  had  relapsed  into  the  precarious  mediocrity  from  which 
Baron  Hulot  had  raised  it. 

The  three  brothers  Fischer,  who  had  been  ruined  by  the 
abdication  at  Fontainebleau,  in  despair  joined  the  irregular 
troops  in  1815.  The  eldest,  Lisbeth's  father,  was  killed. 
Adeline's  father,  sentenced  to  death  by  court-martial,  fled  to 
Germany,  and  died  at  Treves  in  1820.  Johann,  the  youngest, 
came  to  Paris,  a  petitioner  to  the  queen  of  the  family,  who 
was  said  to  dine  off  gold  and  silver  plate,  and  never  to  be  seen 
at  a  party  but  with  diamonds  in  her  hair  as  big  as  hazelnuts, 
given  to  her  by  the  Emperor. 

Johann  Fischer,  then  aged  forty-three,  obtained  from  Baron 
Hulot  a  capital  of  ten  thousand  francs  with  which  to  start  a 
small  business  as  forage-dealer  at  Versailles,  under  the  patron- 
age of  the  War  Office,  through  the  influence  of  the  friends, 
still  in  office,  of  the  late  commissary-general. 

These  family  catastrophes,  Baron  Hulot's  dismissal,  and  the 
knowledge  that  he  was  a  mere  cypher  in  that  immense  stir  of 
men  and  interests  and  things  which  makes  Paris  at  once  a 
paradise  and  a  hell,  quite  quelled  Lisbeth  Fischer.  She  gave 
up  all  idea  of  rivalry  and  comparison  with  her  cousin  after 
feeling  her  great  superiority;  but  envy  still  lurked  in  her 
heart,  like  a  plague-germ  that  may  hatch  and  devastate  a  city 
if  the  fatal  bale  of  woolens  is  opened  in  which  it  is  concealed. 


36  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

Now  and  again,  indeed,  she  said  to  herself: 

"Adeline  and  I  are  the  same  flesh  and  blood,  our  fathers 
were  brothers — and  she  is  in  a  mansion,  while  I  am  in  a 
garret. ' ' 

But  every  New  Year  Lisbeth  had  presents  from  the  baron 
and  baroness ;  the  baron,  who  was  always  good  to  her,  paid 
for  her  firewood  in  the  winter;  old  General  Hulot  had  her  to 
dinner  once  a  week ;  and  there  was  always  a  cover  laid  for  her 
at  her  cousin's  table.  They  laughed  at  her,  no  doubt,  but 
they  were  never  ashamed  to  own  her.  In  short,  they  had 
made  her  independent  in  Paris,  where  she  lived  as  she 
pleased. 

The  old  maid  had,  in  fact,  a  terror  of  any  kind  of  tie. 
Her  cousin  had  offered  her  a  room  in  her  own  house — Lisbeth 
suspected  the  halter  of  domestic  servitude ;  several  times  the 
baron  had  found  a  solution  of  the  difficult  problem  of  her 
marriage ;  but  though  tempted  in  the  first  instance,  she  would 
presently  decline,  fearing  lest  she  should  be  scorned  for  her 
want  of  education,  her  general  ignorance,  and  her  poverty ; 
finally,  when  the  baroness  suggested  that  she  should  live  with 
their  Uncle  Johann,  and  keep  house  for  him,  instead  of  the 
upper  servant,  who  must  cost  him  dear,  Lisbeth  replied  that 
that  was  the  very  last  way  she  should  think  of  marrying. 

Lisbeth  Fischer  had  the  sort  of  strangeness  in  her  ideas 
which  is  often  noticeable  in  characters  that  have  developed 
late,  in  savages,  who  think  much  and  speak  little.  Her 
peasant's  wit  had  acquired  a  good  deal  of  Parisian  asperity 
from  hearing  the  talk  of  workshops  and  mixing  with  workmen 
and  workwomen.  She,  whose  character  had  a  marked  re- 
semblance to  that  of  the  Corsicans,  worked  upon  without 
fruition  by  the  instincts  of  a  strong  nature,  would  have  liked 
to  be  the  protectress  of  a  weak  man ;  but,  as  a  result  of  living 
in  the  capital,  the  capital  had  altered  her  superficially,  Parisian 
polish  became  rust  on  this  coarsely  tempered  soul.  Gifted 
with  a  cunning  which  had  become  unfathomable,  as  it  always 


COUSIN  BETTY.  87 

does  in  those  whose  celibacy  is  genuine,  with  the  originality 
and  sharpness  with  which  she  clothed  her  ideas,  in  any  other 
position  she  would  have  been  formidable.  Full  of  spite,  she 
was  capable  of  bringing  discord  into  the  most  united  family. 

In  early  days,  when  she  indulged  in  certain  secret  hopes 
which  she  confided  to  none,  she  took  to  wearing  stays,  and 
dressing  in  the  fashion,  and  so  shone  in  splendor  for  a  short 
time,  that  the  baron  thought  her  marriageable.  Lisbeth  at 
that  stage  was  the  piquant  brunette  of  old-fashioned  novels. 
Her  piercing  glance,  her  olive  skin,  her  reed-like  figure,  might 
invite  a  half-pay  major;  but  she  was  satisfied,  she  would  say 
laughingly,  with  her  own  admiration. 

And,  indeed,  she  found  her  life  pleasant  enough  when  she 
had  freed  it  from  practical  anxieties,  for  she  dined  out  every 
evening  after  working  hard  from  sunrise.  Thus  she  had  only 
her  rent  and  her  midday  meal  to  provide  for ;  she  had  most 
of  her  clothes  given  her,  and  a  variety  of  very  acceptable 
stores,  such  as  coffee,  sugar,  wine,  and  so  forth. 

In  1837,  after  living  for  twenty-seven  years,  half  maintained 
by  the  Hulots  and  her  Uncle  Fischer,  Cousin  Betty,  resigned 
to  being  nobody,  allowed  herself  to  be  treated  so.  She  her- 
self refused  to  appear  at  any  grand  dinners,  preferring  the 
family  party,  where  she  held  her  own  and  was  spared  all 
slights  to  her  pride. 

Wherever  she  went — at  General  Hulot's,  at  Crevel's,  at  the 
house  of  the  young  Hulots,  or  at  Rivet's  (Pons'  successor, 
with  whom  she  made  up  her  quarrel,  and  who  made  much  of 
her),  and  at  the  baroness'  table — she  was  treated  as  one  of  the 
family ;  in  fact,  she  managed  to  make  friends  of  the  servants 
by  making  them  an  occasional  small  present,  and  always 
gossiping  with  them  for  a  few  minutes  before  going  into  the 
drawing-room.  This  familiarity,  by  which  she  uncompromis- 
ingly put  herself  on  their  level,  conciliated  their  servile  good- 
nature, which  is  indispensable  to  a  parasite.  '*  She  is  a  good, 
steady  woman,"  was  everybody's  verdict. 


38  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

Her  willingness  to  oblige,  which  knew  no  bounds  when  it 
was  not  demanded  of  her,  was  indeed,  like  her  assumed  blunt- 
ness,  a  necessity  of  her  position.  She  had  at  length  under- 
stood what  her  life  must  be,  seeing  that  she  was  at  everybody's 
mercy;  and  needing  to  please  everybody,  she  would  laugh 
with  young  people,  who  liked  her  for  a  sort  of  wheedling 
flattery  which  always  wins  them  ;  guessing  and  taking  part 
with  their  fancies,  she  would  make  herself  their  spokeswoman, 
and  they  thought  her  a  delightful  confidante,  since  she  had 
no  right  to  find  fault  with  them. 

Her  absolute  secrecy  also  won  her  the  confidence  of  their 
seniors ;  for,  like  Ninon,  she  had  certain  manly  qualities. 
As  a  rule,  our  confidence  is  given  to  those  below  rather  than 
above  us.  We  employ  our  inferiors  rather  than  our  betters  in 
secret  transactions,  and  they  thus  become  the  recipients  of 
our  inmost  thoughts,  and  look  on  at  our  meditations ;  Riche- 
lieu thought  he  had  achieved  success  when  he  was  admitted 
to  the  Council.  This  penniless  woman  was  supposed  to  be 
so  dependent  on  every  one  about  her,  that  she  seemed 
doomed  to  perfect  silence.  She  herself  called  herself  the 
Family  Confessional. 

The  baroness  only,  remembering  her  ill-usage  in  childhood 
by  the  cousin  who,  though  younger,  was  stronger  than  herself, 
never  wholly  trusted  her.  Beside,  out  of  sheer  modesty,  she 
would  never  have  told  her  domestic  sorrows  to  any  one  but 
God. 

It  may  here  be  well  to  add  that  the  baron's  house  preserved 
all  its  magnificence  in  the  eyes  of  Lisbeth  Fischer,  who  was  not  { 
struck,  as  the  parvenu  perfumer  had  been,  with  the  penury 
stamped  on  the  shabby  chairs,  the  dirty  hangings,  and  the 
ripped  silk.  The  furniture  we  live  with  is  in  some  sort  like 
our  own  person  ;  seeing  ourselves  every  day,  we  end,  like  the 
baron,  by  thinking  ourselves  but  little  altered,  and  still  youth- 
ful, when  others  see  that  our  head  is  covered  with  chinchilla, 
our  forehead  scarred  with  circumflex  accents,  our  stomach  as- 


COUSIN  BETTY.  39 

suming  the  rotundity  of  a  pumpkin.  So  these  rooms,  always 
blazing  in  Betty's  eyes  with  the  Bengal-fire  of  Imperial  victory, 
were  to  her  perennially  splendid. 

As  time  went  on,  Lisbeth  had  contracted  some  rather  strange 
old-maidish  habits.  For  instance,  instead  of  following  the 
fashions,  she  expected  the  fashion  to  accept  her  ways  and 
yield  to  her  always  out-of-date  notions.  When  the  baroness 
gave  her  a  pretty  new  bonnet,  or  a  gown  in  the  fashion  of  the 
day,  Betty  remade  it  completely  at  home,  and  spoilt  it  by 
producing  a  dress  of  the  style  of  the  Empire  or  of  her  old 
Lorraine  costume.  A  thirty-franc  bonnet  came  out  a  rag, 
and  tlie  gown  a  disgrace.  On  this  point,  Lisbeth  was  as  ob- 
stinate as  a  mule  ;  she  would  please  no  one  but  herself,  and 
believed  herself  charming ;  whereas  this  assimilative  process — 
harmonious,  no  doubt,  in  so  far  as  that  it  stamped  her  for  an 
old  maid  from  head  to  foot — made  her  so  ridiculous,  that, 
with  the  best  will  in  the  world,  no  one  could  admit  her  on 
any  smart  occasion. 

This  refractory,  capricious,  and  independent  spirit,  and  the 
inexplicable  wild  shyness  of  the  woman  for  whom  the  baron 
had  four  times  found  a  match — an  employe  in  his  office,  a 
retired  major,  an  army  contractor,  and  a  half-pay  captain — 
while  she  had  refused  an  army  lacemaker,  who  had  since  made 
his  fortune,  had  won  her  the  name  of  the  Nanny  Goat,  which 
the  baron  gave  her  in  jest.  But  this  nickname  only  met  the 
peculiarities  that  lay  on  the  surface,  the  eccentricities  which 
each  of  us  displays  to  his  neighbors  in  social  life.  This  woman, 
who,  if  closely  studied,  would  have  shown  the  most  savage 
traits  of  the  peasant  class,  was  still  the  girl  who  had  clawed 
her  cousin's  nose,  and  who,  if  she  had  not  been  trained  to 
reason,  would  perhaps  have  killed  her  in  a  fit  of  jealousy. 

It  was  only  her  knowledge  of  the  laws  and  of  the  world 
that  enabled  her  to  control  the  swift  instinct  with  which 
country-folk,  like  wild  men,  reduce  impulse  to  action.  In 
this  alone,  perhaps,  lies  the  difference  between  natural  and 


40  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

civilized  man.  The  savage  has  only  impulse ;  the  civilized 
man  has  impulses  and  ideas.  And  in  the  savage  the  brain  re- 
tains, as  we  may  say,  but  few  impressions,  it  is  wholly  at  the 
mercy  of  the  feeling  that  rushes  in  upon  it ;  while  in  the  civ- 
ilized man,  ideas  sink  into  the  heart  and  change  it;  he  has  a 
thousand  interests  and  many  feelings,  where  the  savage  has 
but  one  at  a  time.  This  is  the  cause  of  the  transient  ascend- 
ency of  a  child  over  its  parents,  which  ceases  as  soon  as  it  is 
satisfied ;  in  the  man  who  is  still  one  with  nature,  this  cause 
is  constant.  Cousin  Betty,  a  savage  of  Lorraine,  somewhat 
treacherous  too,  was  of  this  class  of  natures,  which  are  com- 
moner among  the  lower  orders  than  is  supposed,  accounting 
for  the  conduct  of  the  populace  during  revolutions. 

At  the  time  when  this  Drama  opens,  if  Cousin  Betty  would 
have  allowed  herself  to  be  dressed  like  other  people ;  if,  like 
the  women  of  Paris,  she  had  been  accustomed  to  wear  each 
fashion  in  its  turn,  she  would  have  been  presentable  and  ac- 
ceptable, but  she  preserved  the  stiffness  of  a  stick.  Now  a 
woman  devoid  of  all  the  graces,  in  Paris  simply  does  not  exist. 
The  fine  but  hard  eyes,  the  severe  features,  the  Calabrian  fixity 
of  complexion  which  made  Lisbeth  like  a  figure  by  Giotto,  and 
of  which  a  true  Parisian  would  have  taken  advantage,  above 
all,  her  strange  way  of  dressing,  gave  her  such  an  extraor- 
dinary appearance  that  she  sometimes  looked  like  one  of  those 
monkeys  in  petticoats  taken  about  by  little  Savoyards.  As 
she  was  well  known  in  the  houses  connected  by  family  ties 
which  she  frequented,  and  restricted  her  social  efforts  to  that 
little  circle,  as  she  liked  her  own  home,  her  singularities  no 
longer  astonished  anybody ;  and  out  of  doors  they  were  lost 
in  the  immense  stir  of  Paris  street-life,  where  only  pretty 
women  are  ever  looked  at. 

Hortense's  laughter  was  at  this  moment  caused  by  a  victory 
won  over  her  Cousin  Lisbeth's  perversity ;  she  had  just  wrung 
from  her  an  avowal  she  had  been  hoping  for  these  three  years 


COUSIN  BETTY.  41 

past.  However  secretive  an  old  maid  may  be,  there  is  one 
sentiment  which  will  always  avail  to  make  her  break  her  fast 
from  words,  and  that  is  her  vanity.  For  the  last  three  years, 
Hortense,  having  become  very  inquisitive  on  such  matters, 
had  pestered  her  cousin  with  questions,  which,  however,  bore 
the  stamp  of  perfect  innocence.  She  wanted  to  know  why  her 
cousin  had  never  married.  Hortense,  who  knew  of  the  five 
offers  that  she  had  refused,  had  constructed  her  little  romance ; 
she  supposed  that  Lisbeth  had  had  a  passionate  attachment, 
and  a  war  of  banter  was  the  result.  Hortense  would  talk  of 
"  We  young  girls  !  "  when  speaking  of  herself  and  her  cousin. 

Cousin  Betty  had  on  several  occasions  answered  in  the  same 
tone — "And  who  says  I  have  not  a  lover?"  So  Cousin 
Betty's  lover,  real  or  fictitious,  became  a  subject  of  mild  jest- 
ing. At  last,  after  two  years  of  this  petty  warfare,  the  last 
time  Lisbeth  had  come  to  the  house  Hortense's  first  question 
had  been — 

"And  how  is  your  lover?" 

"  Pretty  well,  thank  you,"  was  the  answer.  "He  is  rather 
ailing,  poor  young  man." 

"  He  has  delicate  health  ?  "  asked  the  baroness,  laughing. 

"  I  should  think  so  !  He  is  fair.  A  sooty  thing  like  me 
can  love  none  but  a  fair  man  with  a  color  like  the  moon." 

"But  who  is  he?  What  does  he  do?"  asked  Hortense. 
*'Is  he  a  prince?" 

**  A  prince  of  artisans,  as  I  am  queen  of  the  bobbin.  Is  a 
poor  woman  like  me  likely  to  find  a  lover  in  a  man  with  a  fine 
house  and  money  in  the  Funds,  or  in  a  duke  of  the  realm,  or 
some  Prince  Charming  out  of  a  fairy  tale?" 

"Oh,  I  should  so  much  like  to  see  him  !  "  cried  Hortense, 
smiling. 

"  To  see  what  a  man  can  be  like  who  can  love  the  Nanny 
Goat?"  retorted  Lisbeth. 

"  He  must  be  some  monster  of  an  old  clerk,  with  a  goat's 
beard  ! ' '  Hortense  said  to  her  mother. 


42  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

"  Well,  then,  you  are  quite  mistaken,  mademoiselle." 

"  Then  you  mean  that  you  really  have  a  lover?"  Hortense 
exclaimed  in  triumph. 

"  As  sure  as  you  have  not !  "  retorted  Lisbeth,  nettled. 

"But  if  you  have  a  lover,  why  don't  you  marry  him, 
Lisbeth?"  said  the  baroness,  shaking  her  head  at  her 
daughter.  "  We  have  been  hearing  rumors  about  him  these 
three  years.  You  have  had  time  to  study  him ;  and  if  he  has 
been  faithful  so  long,  you  should  not  persist  in  a  delay  which 
must  be  hard  upon  him.  After  all,  it  is  a  matter  of  con- 
science ;  and  if  he  is  young,  it  is  time  to  take  a  brevet  of 
dignity." 

Cousin  Betty  had  fixed  her  gaze  on  Adeline,  and,  seeing 
that  she  was  jesting,  she  replied — 

'*  It  would  be  marrying  hunger  and  thirst ;  he  is  a  workman, 
I  am  a  workwoman.  If  we  had  children,  they  would  be 
workmen.  No,  no  ;  we  love  each  other  spiritually ;  it  is  less 
expensive." 

**  Why  do  you  keep  him  in  hiding?  "  Hortense  asked. 

"  He  wears  a  round  jacket,"  replied  the  old  maid,  laughing. 

**  You  truly  love  him  ?  "  the  baroness  inquired. 

"  I  believe  you  !  I  love  him  for  his  own  sake,  the  dear 
cherub.     For  four  years  his  home  has  been  in  my  heart." 

**  Well,  then,  if  you  love  him  for  himself,"  said  the  baroness 
gravely,  "and  if  he  really  exists,  you  are  treating  him  crim- 
inally.    You  do  not  know  how  to  love  truly." 

"We  all  know  that  from  our  birth,"  said  Lisbeth. 

**  No,  there  are  women  who  love  and  yet  are  selfish,  and 
that  is  your  case." 

Cousin  Betty's  head  fell,  and  her  glance  would  have  made 
any  one  shiver  who  had  seen  it ;  but  her  eyes  were  on  her 
reel  of  thread. 

"  If  you  would  introduce  your  so-called  lover  to  us,  Hector 
might  find  him  employment,  or  put  him  in  a  position  to  make 
money." 


COUSIN  BETTY.  43 

"  That  is  out  of  the  question,"  said  Cousin  Betty. 

"And  why?" 

"  He  is  a  sort  of  a  Pole — a  refugee " 

"  A  conspirator  ?  "  cried  Hortense.  "  What  luck  for  you ! 
Has  he  had  any  adventures  ?  " 

"  He  has  fought  for  Poland.  He  was  a  professor  in  the 
school  where  the  students  began  the  rebellion ;  and  as  he  had 
been  placed  there  by  the  Grand  Duke  Constantine,  he  has  no 
hope  of  mercy " 

"  A  professor  of  what  ?  " 

"Of  fine  arts." 

"And  he  came  to  Paris  when  the  rebellion  was  quelled?" 

"  In  1833.     He  came  through  Germany  on  foot." 

**  Poor  young  man  !     And  how  old  is  he  ?  " 

**  He  was  just  four-and-twenty  when  the  insurrection  broke 
out — he  is  twenty-nine  now." 

"  Fifteen  years  your  junior,"  said  the  baroness. 

"  And  what  does  he  live  on  ?  "  asked  Hortense. 

"His  talent." 

"  Oh,  he  gives  lessons  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Cousin  Betty  ;  "  he  gets  them,  and  hard  ones 
too!" 

"  And  his  Christian  name — is  it  a  pretty  name  ?" 

"Wenceslas." 

"What  a  wonderful  imagination  you  old  maids  have!" 
exclaimed  the  baroness.  "To  hear  you  talk,  Lisbeth,  one 
might  really  believe  you." 

"  You  see,  mamma,  he  is  a  Pole,  and  so  accustomed  to  the 
knout  that  Lisbeth  reminds  him  of  the  joys  of  his  native  land." 

They  all  three  laughed,  and  Hortense  sang  "Wenceslas! 
idole  de  mon  ame  !"  instead  of  "  O  Mathilde." 

Then  for  a  few  minutes  there  was  a  truce. 

"These  children,"  said  Cousin  Betty,  looking  at  Hortense 
as  she  went  up  to  her,  "  fancy  that  no  one  but  themselves  can 
have  lovers." 


U  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

"Listen,"  Hortense  replied,  finding  herself  alone  with  her 
cousin,  "  if  you  prove  to  me  that  Wenceslas  is  not  a  pure 
invention,  I  will  give  you  my  yellow  cashmere  shawl." 

"  He  is  a  count." 

"  Every  Pole  is  a  count !  " 

**  But  he  is  not  a  Pole ;  he  comes  from  Liva — Litha " 

"Lithuania?" 

"No." 

"Livonia?" 

"Yes,  that's  it!" 

"But  what  is  his  name ? ' ' 

"  I  wonder  if  you  are  capable  of  keeping  a  secret !  " 

"  Cousin  Betty,  I  will  be  as  mute  ! " 

"As  a  fish?" 

"As  a  fish." 

"  By  your  life  eternal?" 

"By  my  life  eternal !  " 

"  No,  by  your  happiness  in  this  world  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  then,  his  name  is  Wenceslas  Steinbock." 

"One  of  Charles  XIL's  generals  was  named  Steinbock." 

"He  was  his  grand-uncle.  His  own  father  settled  in  Liv- 
onia after  the  death  of  the  King  of  Sweden ;  but  he  lost  all  his 
fortune  during  the  campaign  of  1812,  and  died,  leaving  the 
poor  boy  at  the  age  of  eight  without  a  penny.  The  Grand 
Duke  Constantine,  for  the  honor  of  the  name  of  Steinbock, 
took  him  under  his  protection  and  sent  him  to  school." 

"I  will  not  break  my  word,"  Hortense  replied;  "prove 
his  existence,  and  you  shall  have  the  yellow  shawl.  The  color 
is  most  becoming  to  dark  skins." 

••  And  you  will  keep  my  secret? " 

"  And  tell  you  mine." 

"Well,  then,  the  next  time  I  come  you  shall  have  the 
proof." 

"  But  the  proof  will  be  the  lover,"  said  Hortense. 


COUSIN  BETTY.  45 

Cousin  Betty,  who,  since  her  first  arrival  in  Paris,  had  been 
bitten  by  a  mania  for  shawls,  was  bewitched  by  the  idea  of 
owning  the  yellow  cashmere  given  to  his  wife  by  the  baron  in 
1808,  and  handed  down  from  mother  to  daughter  after  the 
manner  of  some  families  in  1830.  The  shawl  had  been  a  good 
deal  worn  ten  years  ago ;  but  the  costly  object,  now  always 
kept  in  its  sandal-wood  box,  seemed  to  the  old  maid  ever  new, 
like  the  drawing-room  furniture.  So  she  brought  in  her  hand- 
bag a  present  for  the  baroness'  birthday,  by  which  she  pro- 
posed to  prove  the  existence  of  her  romantic  lover. 

This  present  was  a  silver  seal  formed  of  three  little  figures 
back  to  back,  wreathed  with  foliage,  and  supporting  the  Globe. 
They  represented  Faith,  Hope,  and  Charity ;  their  feet  rested 
on  monsters  rending  each  other,  among  them  the  symbolical 
serpent.  In  1846,  now  that  such  immense  strides  have  been 
made  in  the  art  of  which  Benvenuto  Cellini  was  the  master, 
by  Mademoiselle  de  Fauveau,  Wagner,  Jeanest,  Froment- 
Meurice,  and  wood-carvers  like  Lienard,  this  little  masterpiece 
would  amaze  nobody ;  but  at  that  time  a  girl  who  understood 
the  silversmiths'  art  stood  astonished  as  she  held  the  seal  which 
Lisbeth  put  into  her  hands,  saying — 

"There  !  what  do  you  think  of  that?" 

In  design,  attitude,  and  drapery  the  figures  were  of  the 
school  of  Raphael ;  but  the  execution  was  in  the  style  of  the 
Florentine  metal-workers — the  school  created  by  Donatello, 
Brunelleschi,  Ghiberti,  Benvenuto  Cellini,  John  of  Bologna, 
and  others.  The  French  masters  of  the  Renaissance  had 
never  invented  more  strangely  twining  monsters  than  these 
that  symbolized  the  evil  passions.  The  palms,  ferns,  reeds, 
and  foliage  that  wreathed  the  Virtues  showed  a  style,  a  taste, 
a  handling  that  might  have  driven  a  practiced  craftsman  to 
despair;  a  scroll  floated  above  the  three  figures;  and  on  its 
surface,  between  the  heads,  were  a  W,  a  chamois,  and  the 
word  fecit. 

"Who  carved  this?"  asked  Hortense. 


46  THE   POOR  PARENTS. 

"Well,  just  my  lover,"  replied  Lisbeth.  "  There  are  ten 
months'  work  in  it ;  I  could  earn  more  at  making  sword-knots. 
He  told  me  that  Steinbock  means  a  rock  goat,  a  chamois,  in 
German.  And  he  intends  to  mark  all  his  work  in  that  way. 
Ah,  ha  !  I  shall  have  the  shawl." 

"What  for?" 

"Do  you  suppose  I  could  buy  such  a  thing,  or  order  it? 
Impossible !  Well,  then,  it  must  have  been  given  to  me. 
And  who  would  make  me  such  a  present?    A  lover  !  " 

Hortense,  with  an  artfulness  that  would  have  frightened 
Lisbeth  Fischer  if  she  had  detected  it,  took  care  not  to  ex- 
press all  her  admiration,  though  she  was  full  of  the  delight 
which  every  soul  that  is  open  to  a  sense  of  beauty  must  feel 
on  seeing  a  faultless  piece  of  work — perfect  and  unexpected. 

"On  my  word,"  said  she,  "  it  is  very  pretty." 

"  Yes,  it  is  pretty,"  said  her  cousin  ;  "  but  I  like  an  orange- 
colored  shawl  better.  Well,  child,  my  lover  spends  his  time 
in  doing  such  work  as  that.  Since  he  came  to  Paris  he  has 
turned  out  three  or  four  little  trifles  in  that  style,  and  that  is 
the  fruit  of  four  years'  study  and  toil.  He  has  served  as  ap- 
prentice to  founders,  metal-casters,  and  goldsmiths.  There, 
he  has  paid  away  thousands  and  hundred  of  francs.  And  my 
gentleman  tells  me  that  in  a  few  months  now  he  will  be 
famous  and  rich " 

"  Then  you  often  see  him  ?  " 

"  Bless  me,  do  you  think  it  is  all  a  fable  ?  I  told  you  truth 
in  jest." 

"And  he  is  in  love  with  you?"  asked  Hortense  eagerly. 

"  He  adores  me,"  replied  Lisbeth  very  seriously.  "You  see, 
child,  he  had  never  seen  any  women  but  the  washed-out,  pale 
things  they  all  are  in  the  north,  and  a  slender,  brown,  youth- 
ful thing  like  me  warmed  his  heart.  But,  mum ;  you  promised, 
you  know  ! '  * 

"And  he  will  fare  like  the  fiveothers,"  said  the  girl  ironi- 
cally, as  she  looked  at  the  seal. 


COUSIN  BETTY.  47 

"Six  others,  miss.  I  left  one  in  Lorraine,  who,  to  this 
day,  would  fetch  the  moon  down  for  me." 

"  This  one  does  better  than  that,"  said  Hortense  ;  *'  he  has 
brought  down  the  sun." 

'*  Where  can  that  be  turned  into  money  ?  "  asked  her  cousin. 
**  It  takes  wide  lands  to  benefit  by  the  sunshine." 

These  witticisms,  fired  in  quick  retort,  and  leading  to  the 
sort  of  giddy  play  that  may  be  imagined,  had  given  cause  for 
the  laughter  which  had  added  to  the  baroness'  troubles  by 
making  her  compare  her  daughter's  future  lot  with  the  present, 
when  she  was  free  to  indulge  the  light-heartedness  of  youth. 

"  But  to  give  you  a  gem  which  cost  him  six  months  of 
work,  he  must  be  under  some  great  obligations  to  you  ?  ' '  said 
Hortense,  in  whom  the  silver  seal  had  suggested  very  serious 
reflections. 

''Oh,  you  want  to  know  too  much  at  once!"  said  her 
cousin.     *'  But,  listen,  T  will  let  you  into  a  little  plot." 

"Is  your  lover  in  it  too?" 

"Oh,  ho!  you  want  so  much  to  see  him!  But,  as  you 
may  suppose,  an  old  maid  like  Cousin  Betty,  who  had 
managed  to  keep  a  lover  for  five  years,  keeps  him  well  hidden. 
Now,  just  let  me  alone.  You  see,  I  have  neither  cat  nor 
canary,  neither  a  dog  nor  a  parrot,  and  the  old  Nanny  Goat 
wanted  something  to  pet  and  tease — so  I  treated  myself  to  a 
Polish  count." 

"  Has  he  a  mustache?  " 

"As  long  as  that,"  said  Lisbeth,  holding  up  her  shuttle 
filled  with  gold  thread.  She  always  took  her  lace-work  with 
her,  and  worked  till  dinner  was  served. 

"  If  you  ask  too  many  questions,  you  will  be  told  nothing," 
she  went  on.  "You  are  but  two-and-twenty,  and  you  chatter 
more  than  I  do  though  I  am  forty-two — not  to  say  forty- 
three." 

"  I  am  listening;  I  am  a  wooden  image,"  said  Hortense. 

"My  lover  has  finished  a  bronze  group  ten  inches  high," 


48  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

Lisbeth  went  on.  "  It  represents  Samson  slaying  a  lion,  and 
he  has  kept  it  buried  till  it  is  so  rusty  that  you  might  believe 
it  to  be  as  old  as  Samson  himself.  This  fine  piece  is  shown 
at  the  store  of  one  of  the  old  curiosity  sellers  on  the  Place  du 
Carrousel,  near  my  lodgings.  Now,  your  father  knows  Mon- 
sieur Popinot,  the  minister  of  commerce  and  agriculture,  and 
the  Comte  de  Rastignac,  and  if  he  would  only  mention  the 
group  to  them  as  a  fine  antique  he  had  seen  by  chance  !  It 
seems  that  such  things  take  the  fancy  of  your  grand  folk,  who 
don't  care  so  much  about  gold  lace,  and  that  my  man's  fortune 
would  be  made  if  one  of  them  would  buy  or  even  look  at  the 
wretched  piece  of  metal.  The  poor  fellow  is  sure  that  it 
might  be  mistaken  for  old  work,  and  that  the  rubbish  is  worth 
a  great  deal  of  money.  And  then,  if  one  of  the  ministers 
should  purchase  the  group,  he  would  go  to  pay  his  respects, 
and  prove  that  he  was  the  maker,  and  be  almost  carried  in 
triumph !  Oh !  he  believes  he  has  reached  the  pinnacle ; 
poor  young  man,  and  he  is  as  proud  as  two  newly  made 
counts." 

"  Michael  Angelo  over  again  ;  but,  for  a  lover,  he  has  kept 
his  head  on  his  shoulders !  "  said  Hortense.  "  And  how 
much  does  he  want  for  it  ?  " 

"  Fifteen  hundred  francs.  The  dealer  will  not  let  it  go  for 
less,  since  he  must  take  his  commission." 

"  Papa  is  in  the  King's  household  just  now,"  said  Hortense. 
"  He  sees  those  two  ministers  every  day  at  the  Chamber,  and 
he  will  do  the  thing — I  undertake  that.  You  will  be  a  rich 
woman,  Madame  la  Comtesse  de  Steinbock." 

"  No,  the  boy  is  too  lazy;  for  whole  weeks  he  sits  twiddling 
with  bits  of  red  wax,  and  nothing  comes  of  it.  Why,  he 
spends  all  his  days  at  the  Louvre  and  the  Library,  looking  at 
prints  and  sketching  things.     He  is  an  idler  !  " 

The  cousins  chatted  and  giggled;  Hortense  laughing  a 
forced  laugh,  for  she  was  invaded  by  a  kind  of  love  which 
every  girl  has  gone  through — the  love  of  the  unknown,  love 


COUSIN  BETTY.  49 

in  its  vaguest  form,  when  every  thought  is  accreted  round 
some  form  which  is  suggested  by  a  chance  word,  as  the  efflo- 
rescence of  hoar-frost  gathers  about  a  straw  that  the  wind  has 
blown  against  the  window-sill. 

For  the  past  ten  months  she  had  made  a  reality  of  her 
cousin's  imaginary  romance,  believing,  like  her  mother,  that 
Lisbeth  would  never  marry;  and  now,  within  a  week,  this 
visionary  being  had  become  Count  Wenceslas  Steinbock,  the 
dream  had  a  certificate  of  birth,  the  wraith  had  solidified  into 
a  young  man  of  thirty.  The  seal  she  held  in  her  hand — a  sort 
of  annunciation  in  which  genius  shone  like  an  immanent  light 
— had  the  powers  of  a  talisman.  Hortense  felt  such  a  surge  of 
happiness  that  she  almost  doubted  whether  the  tale  were  true ; 
there  was  a  ferment  in  her  blood,  and  she  laughed  wildly  to 
deceive  her  cousin. 

"  But  I  think  the  drawing-room  door  is  open,"  said  Lisbeth; 
"  let  us  go  and  see  if  Monsieur  Crevel  is  gone." 

"  Mamma  has  been  very  much  out  of  spirits  these  two 
days.  I  suppose  the  marriage  under  discussion  has  come  to 
nothing !  " 

"Oh,  it  may  come  on  again.  He  is — I  may  tell  you  so 
much — a  councilor  of  the  Supreme  Court.  How  would  you 
like  to  be  Madame  la  Presidente  ?  If  Monsieur  Crevel  has  a 
finger  in  it,  he  will  tell  me  about  it  if  I  ask  him.  I  shall 
know  by  to-morrow  if  there  is  any  hope." 

"Leave  the  seal  with  me,"  said  Hortense;  "I  will  not 
show  it — mamma's  birthday  is  not  for  a  month  yet ;  I  will 
give  it  you  that  morning." 

"  No,  no.     Give  it  back  to  me ;  it  must  have  a  case." 

"  But  I  will  let  papa  see  it,  that  he  may  know  what  he  is 
talking  about  to  the  ministers,  for  men  in  authority  must  be 
careful  what  they  say,"  urged  the  girl. 

"Well,  do  not  show  it  to  your  mother — that  is  all  I  ask; 
for,   if  she  believed  I  had  a  lover,  she  would  make  game 
of  me." 
4 


50  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

"I  promise." 

The  cousins  reached  the  drawing-room  just  as  the  baroness 
turned  faint.  Her  daughter's  cry  of  alarm  recalled  her  to 
herself.  Lisbeth  went  off  to  fetch  some  salts.  When  she 
came  back,  she  found  the  mother  and  daughter  in  each 
other's  arms,  the  baroness  soothing  her  daughter's  fears,  and 
saying  : 

"It  was  nothing;  a  little  nervous  attack.  There  is  your 
father,"  she  added,  recognizing  the  baron's  way  of  ringing 
the  bell.     "  Say  not  a  word  to  him." 

Adeline  rose  and  went  to  meet  her  husband,  intending  to 
take  him  into  the  garden  and  talk  to  him  till  dinner  should 
be  served  of  the  difficulties  about  the  proposed  match,  getting 
him  to  come  to  some  decision  as  to  the  future,  and  trying  to 
hint  at  some  warning  advice. 

Baron  Hector  Hulot  came  in,  in  a  dress  at  once  lawyer- 
like and  Napoleonic,  for  Imperial  men — men  who  had  been 
attached  to  the  Emperor — were  easily  distinguishable  by  their 
military  deportment,  their  blue  coats  with  gilt  buttons,  but- 
toned to  the  chin,  their  black  silk  stock,  and  an  authoritative 
demeanor  acquired  from  a  habit  of  command  in  circumstances 
requiring  despotic  rapidity.  There  was  nothing  of  the  old 
man  in  the  baron,  it  must  be  admitted ;  his  sight  was  still  so 
good  that  he  could  read  without  spectacles;  his  handsome 
oval  face,  framed  in  whiskers  that  were  indeed  too  black, 
showed  a  brilliant  complexion,  ruddy  with  the  veins  that 
characterize  a  sanguine  temperament ;  and  his  stomach,  kept 
in  order  by  a  belt,  had  not  exceeded  the  limits  of  "the  ma- 
jestic," as  Brillat-Savarin  says.  A  fine  aristocratic  air  and 
great  affability  served  to  conceal  the  libertine  with  whom 
Crevel  had  had  such  high  times.  He  was  one  of  those  men 
whose  eyes  always  light  up  at  the  sight  of  a  pretty  woman, 
even  of  such  as  merely  pass  by,  never  more  to  be  seen  of  them 
again. 


COUSIN  BETTY.  51 

"Have  you  been  speaking,  my  dear?"  asked  Adeline, 
seeing  him  with  an  anxious  brow. 

"No,"  replied  Hector,  "but  I  am  worn  out  with  hearing 
others  speak  for  two  hours  without  coming  to  a  vote.  They 
carry  on  a  war  of  words,  in  which  their  speeches  are  like  a 
cavalry  charge  which  has  no  effect  on  the  enemy.  Talk  has 
taken  the  place  of  action,  which  goes  very  much  against  the 
grain  with  men  who  are  accustomed  to  marching  orders,  as  I 
said  to  the  marshal  when  I  left  him.  However,  I  have  enough 
of  being  bored  on  the  ministers'  bench;  here  I  may  play. 
How  do,  la  Chevre !  Good-morning,  little  kid,"  and  he 
took  his  daughter  round  the  neck,  kissed  her,  and  made  her 
sit  on  his  knee,  resting  her  head  on  his  shoulder,  that  he 
miglit  feel  her  soft  golden  hair  against  his  cheek. 

"  He  is  tired  and  worried,"  said  his  wife  to  herself.  "  I 
shall  only  worry  him  more — I  will  wait. — Are  you  going  to 
be  at  home  this  evening  ?  "  she  asked  him. 

"  No,  children.  After  dinner  I  must  go  out.  If  it  had 
not  been  the  day  when  Lisbeth  and  the  children  and  my 
brother  come  to  dinner,  you  would  not  have  seen  me  at  all." 

The  baroness  took  up  the  newspaper,  looked  down  the  list 
of  theatres,  and  laid  it  down  again  when  she  had  seen  that 
Robert  le  Diable  was  to  be  given  at  the  opera.  Josepha, 
who  had  left  the  Italian  opera  six  months  since  for  the  French 
opera,  was  to  take  the  part  of  Alice. 

This  little  pantomime  did  not  escape  the  baron,  who  looked 
hard  at  his  wife.  Adeline  cast  down  her  eyes  and  went  out 
into  the  garden  ;  her  husband  followed  her. 

"Come,  what  is  it,  Adeline?"  said  he,  putting  his  arm 
round  her  waist  and  pressing  her  to  his  side.  "  Do  not  you 
know  that  I  love  you  more  than " 

"  More  than  Jenny  Cadine  or  Josepha  !  "  said  she,  boldly 
interrupting  him. 

"Who  put  that  into  your  head?"  exclaimed  the  baron, 
releasing  his  wife,  and  starting  back  a  step  or  two. 


52  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

"  I  got  an  anonymous  letter,  which  I  burned  at  once,  in 
which  I  was  told,  my  dear,  that  the  reason  Hortense's  marriage 
was  broken  off  was  the  poverty  of  our  circumstances.  Your 
wife,  my  dear  Hector,  would  never  have  said  a  word ;  she 
knew  of  your  connection  with  Jenny  Cadine,  and  did  she  ever 
complain  ?  But  as  the  mother  of  Hortense,  I  am  bound  to 
speak  the  truth." 

Hulot,  after  a  short  silence,  which  was  terrible  to  his  wife, 
whose  heart  beat  loud  enough  to  be  heard,  opened  his  arms, 
clasped  her  to  his  heart,  kissed  her  forehead,  and  said  with 
the  vehemence  of  enthusiasm — 

"Adeline,  you  are  an  angel,  and  I  am  a  wretch " 

"  No,  no,"  cried  the  baroness,  hastily  laying  her  hand  upon 
his  lips  to  hinder  him  from  speaking  evil  of  himself. 

"  Yes,  for  I  have  not  at  this  moment  a  sou  to  give  to  Hor- 
tense, and  I  am  most  unhappy.  But  since  you  open  your 
heart  to  me,  I  may  pour  into  it  the  trouble  that  is  crushing 
me.  Your  Uncle  Fischer  is  in  difficulties,  and  it  is  I  who 
dragged  him  there,  for  he  has  accepted  bills  for  me  to  the 
amount  of  twenty-five  thousand  francs  !  And  all  for  a  woman 
who  deceives  me,  who  laughs  at  me  behind  my  back,  and  calls 
me  an  old  dyed  Tom.  It  is  frightful  !  A  vice  which  costs 
me  more  than  it  would  to  maintain  a  family  !  And  I  cannot 
resist !  I  would  promise  you  here  and  now  never  to  see  that 
abominable  Jewess  again ;  but  if  she  wrote  me  two  lines,  I 
should  go  to  her,  as  we  marched  into  fire  under  the  Emperor." 

"Do  not  be  so  distressed,"  cried  the  poor  woman  in  de- 
spair, but  forgetting  her  daughter  as  she  saw  the  tears  in  her 
husband's  eyes.  "  There  are  ray  diamonds ;  whatever  hap- 
pens, save  my  uncle." 

"Your  diamonds  are  worth  scarcely  twenty  thousand  francs 
nowadays.  That  would  not  be  enough  for  old  Fischer,  so 
keep  them  for  Hortense;  I  will  see  the  marshal  to-morrow." 

"  My  poor  dear  !  "  said  the  baroness,  taking  her  Hector's 
hands  and  kissing  them. 


COUSIN  BETTY.  53 

This  was  all  the  scolding  he  got.  Adeline  sacrificed  her 
jewels,  the  father  made  them  a  present  to  Hortense,  she  re- 
garded this  as  a  sublime  action,  and  she  was  helpless. 

**  He  is  the  master ;  he  could  take  everything,  and  he  leaves 
me  my  diamonds;  he  is  divine  !  " 

This  was  the  current  of  her  thoughts ;  and  indeed  the  wife 
had  gained  more  by  her  sweetness  than  another  perhaps  could 
have  achieved  by  a  fit  of  angry  jealousy. 

The  moralist  cannot  deny  that,  as  a  rule,  well-bred  though 
very  wicked  men  are  far  more  attractive  and  lovable  than  vir- 
tuous men ;  having  crimes  to  atone  for,  they  crave  indulgence 
by  anticipation,  by  being  lenient  to  the  shortcomings  of  those 
who  judge  them,  and  they  are  thought  most  kind.  Though 
there  are  no  doubt  some  charming  people  among  the  virtuous. 
Virtue  considers  itself  fair  enough,  unadorned,  to  be  at  no 
pains  to  please ;  and  then  all  really  virtuous  persons,  for  the 
hypocrites  do  not  count,  have  some  slight  doubts  as  to  their 
position ;  they  believe  that  they  are  cheated  in  the  bargain  of 
life  on  the  whole,  and  they  indulge  in  acrid  comments  after 
the  fashion  of  those  who  think  themselves  unappreciated. 

Hence  the  baron,  who  accused  himself  of  ruining  his  family, 
displayed  all  his  charm  of  wit  and  his  most  seductive  graces 
for  the  benefit  of  his  wife,  for  his  children,  and  his  Cousin 
Lisbeth. 

Then,  when  his  son  arrived  with  C6lestine,  Crevel's  daughter, 
who  was  nursing  the  infant  Hulot,  he  was  delightful  to  his 
daughter-in-law,  loading  her  with  compliments — a  treat  to 
which  Celestine's  vanity  was  little  accustomed,  for  no  moneyed 
bride  more  commonplace  or  more  utterly  insignificant  was 
ever  seen.  The  grandfather  took  the  baby  from  her,  kissed 
it,  declared  it  was  a  beauty  and  a  darling ;  he  spoke  to  it  in 
baby  language,  prophesied  that  it  would  grow  to  be  taller  than 
himself,  insinuated  compliments  for  his  son's  benefit,  and 
restored  the  child  to  the  Normandy  nurse  who  had  charge  of 
it.     Celestine,  on  her  part,  gave  the  baroness  a  look,  as  much 


54  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

as  to  say,  "  What  a  delightful  man  !  "  and  she  naturally  took 
her  father-in-law's  part  against  her  father. 

After  thus  playing  the  charming  father-in-law  and  the  indul- 
gent grandpapa,  the  baron  took  his  son  into  the  garden,  and 
laid  before  him  a  variety  of  observations  full  of  good  sense  as 
to  the  attitude  to  be  taken  up  by  the  Chamber  on  a  certain 
ticklish  question  which  had  that  morning  come  under  dis- 
cussion. The  young  lawyer  was  struck  with  admiration  for 
the  depth  of  his  father's  insight,  touched  by  his  cordiality, 
and  especially  by  the  deferential  tone  which  seemed  to  place 
the  two  men  on  a  footing  of  equality. 

Monsieur  Hulot  junior  was  in  every  respect  the  young 
Frenchman,  as  he  has  been  moulded  by  the  Revolution  of 
1830;  his  mind  infatuated  with  politics,  respectful  of  his  own 
hopes,  and  concealing  them  under  an  affectation  of  gravity, 
very  envious  of  successful  men,  making  sententiousness  do  the 
duty  of  witty  rejoinders — the  gems  of  the  French  language — 
with  a  high  sense  of  importance,  and  mistaking  arrogance  for 
dignity. 

Such  men  are  walking  coffins,  each  containing  a  Frenchman 
of  the  past ;  now  and  again  the  Frenchman  wakes  up  and  kicks 
against  his  English-made  casing ;  but  ambition  stifles  him,  and 
he  submits  to  be  smothered.  The  coffin  is  always  covered 
with  black  cloth. 

"  Ah,  here  is  my  brother !  "  said  Baron  Hulot,  going  to 
meet  the  count  at  the  drawing-room  door. 

Having  greeted  the  probable  successor  of  the  late  Marshal 
Montcornet,  he  led  him  forward  by  the  arm  with  every  show 
of  affection  and  respect. 

The  older  man,  a  member  of  the  Chamber  of  Peers,  but 
excused  from  attendance  on  account  of  his  deafness,  had  a 
handsome  head,  chilled  by  age,  but  with  enough  gray  hair 
still  to  be  marked  in  a  circle  by  the  pressure  of  his  hat.  He 
was  short,  square,  and  shrunken,  but  carried  his  hale  old 
age  with  a  free-and-easy  air ;  and  as  he  was  full  of  excessive 


COUSIN  BETTY.  55 

activity,  which  had  now  no  purpose,  he  divided  his  lime 
between  reading  and  taking  exercise.  In  a  drawing-room  he 
devoted  his  attention  to  waiting  on  the  wishes  of  the  ladies. 

"You  are  very  merry  here,"  said  he,  seeing  that  the  baron 
shed  a  spirit  of  animation  on  the  little  family  gathering. 
"And  yet  Hortense  is  not  married,"  he  added,  noticing  a 
trace  of  melancholy  on  his  sister-in-law's  countenance. 

"  That  will  all  come  in  good  time,"  Lisbeth  shouted  in  his 
ear  in  a  formidable  voice. 

"So  there  you  are,  you  wretched  seedling  that  could  never 
blossom,"  said  he,  laughing. 

The  hero  of  Forzheim  rather  liked  Cousin  Betty,  for  there 
were  certain  points  of  resemblance  between  them.  A  man  of 
the  ranks,  without  any  education,  his  courage  had  been  the  sole 
mainspring  of  his  military  promotion,  and  sound  sense  had 
taken  the  place  of  brilliancy.  Of  the  highest  honor  and  clean- 
handed, he  was  ending  a  noble  life  in  full  contentment  in  the 
centre  of  his  family,  which  claimed  all  his  affections,  and 
without  a  suspicion  of  his  brother's  still  undiscovered  miscon- 
duct. No  one  enjoyed  more  than  he  the  pleasing  sight  of  this 
family  party,  where  there  never  was  the  smallest  disagreement, 
for  the  brothers  and  sisters  were  all  equally  attached,  Celestine 
having  been  at  once  accepted  as  one  of  the  family.  But  the 
worthy  little  count  wondered  now  and  then  why  Monsieur 
Crevel  never  joined  the  party.  "  Papa  is  in  the  country," 
Celestine  shouted,  and  it  was  explained  to  him  that  the  ex- 
perfumer  was  away  from  home. 

This  perfect  union  of  all  her  family  made  Madame  Hulot 
say  to  herself,  "  This,  after  all,  is  the  best  kind  of  happiness, 
and  who  can  deprive  us  of  it  ?  " 

The  general,  on  seeing  his  favorite  Adeline  the  object  of 
her  husband's  attentions,  laughed  so  much  about  it  that  the 
baron,  fearing  to  seem  ridiculous,  transferred  his  gallantries 
to  his  daughter-in-law,  who  at  these  family  dinners  was  always 
the  object  of  his  flattery  and  kind  care,  for  he  hoped  to  win 


56  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

Crevel  back  through  her,  and  make  him  forego  his  antagonistic 
resentment. 

Any  one  seeing  this  domestic  scene  would  have  found  it 
hard  to  believe  that  the  father  was  at  his  wit's  end,  the  mother 
in  despair,  the  son  anxious  beyond  words  as  to  his  father's 
future  fate,  and  the  daughter  on  the  point  of  robbing  her 
cousin  of  her  lover. 

At  seven  o'clock  the  baron,  seeing  his  brother,  his  son,  the 
baroness,  and  Hortense  all  engaged  at  whist,  went  off  to 
applaud  his  mistress  at  the  opera,  taking  with  him  Lisbeth 
Fischer,  who  lived  in  the  Rue  du  Doyenne,  and  who  always 
made  an  excuse  of  the  solitude  of  that  deserted  quarter  to 
take  herself  off  as  soon  as  dinner  was  over.  Parisians  will  all 
admit  that  the  old  maid's  prudence  was  but  rational. 

The  existence  of  the  maze  of  houses  under  the  wing  of  the 
Louvre  is  one  of  those  protests  against  obvious  good  sense 
which  Frenchmen  love,  that  Europe  may  reassure  itself  as  to 
the  quantum  of  brains  they  are  known  to  have,  and  not  be 
too  much  alarmed.  Perhaps,  without  knowing  it,  this  reveals 
some  profound  political  idea. 

It  will  surely  not  be  a  work  of  supererogation  to  describe 
this  part  of  Paris  as  it  is  even  now,  when  we  could  hardly 
expect  its  survival ;  and  our  grandsons,  who  will  no  doubt  see 
the  Louvre  finished,  may  refuse  to  believe  that  such  a  relic  of 
barbarism  should  have  survived  for  six-and-thirty  years  in  the 
heart  of  Paris  and  in  the  face  of  the  palace  where  three 
dynasties  of  kings  have  received,  during  those  thirty-six 
years,  the  6lite  of  France  and  of  Europe. 

Between  the  little  gate  leading  to  the  Bridge  of  the  Car- 
rousel and  the  Rue  du  Mus^e,  every  one  having  come  to  Paris, 
were  it  but  for  a  few  days,  must  have  seen  a  dozen  of  houses 
with  a  decayed  frontage  where  the  dejected  owners  have 
attempted  no  repairs,  the  remains  of  an  old  block  of  buildings 
of  which  the  destruction  was  begun  at  the  time  when  Napo- 


COUSIN  BETTY.  57 

leon  determined  to  complete  the  Louvre.  This  street,  and 
the  blind  alley  known  as  the  Impasse  du  Doyenne,  are  the 
only  passages  into  this  gloomy  and  forsaken  block,  inhabited 
perhaps  by  ghosts,  for  there  never  is  anybody  to  be  seen. 
The  pavement  is  much  below  the  footway  of  the  Rue  du 
Musee,  on  a  level  with  that  of  the  Rue  Froidmanteau.  Thus, 
half  sunken  by  the  raising  of  the  soil,  these  houses  are  also 
wrapped  in  the  perpetual  shadow  cast  by  the  lofty  buildings 
of  the  Louvre,  darkened  on  that  side  by  the  northern  blast. 
Darkness,  silence,  an  icy  chill,  and  the  cavernous  depth  of 
the  soil  combine  to  make  these  houses  a  kind  of  crypt,  tombs 
of  the  living.  As  we  drive  in  a  hackney  coach  past  this  dead- 
alive  spot,  and  chance  to  look  down  the  little  Rue  du 
Doyenne,  a  shudder  freezes  the  soul,  and  we  wonder  who  can 
live  there,  and  what  things  may  be  done  there  at  night,  at  an 
hour  when  the  alley  is  a  cut-throat  pit,  and  the  vices  of 
Paris  run  riot  there  under  the  cloak  of  night.  This  question, 
frightful  in  itself,  becomes  appalling  when  we  note  that  these 
dwelling-houses  are  shut  in  on  the  side  toward  the  Rue  de 
Richelieu  by  marshy  ground,  by  a  sea  of  tumbled  paving- 
stones  between  them  and  the  Tuileries,  by  little  garden-plots 
and  suspicious-looking  hovels  on  the  side  of  the  great  galleries, 
and  by  a  desert  of  building-stone  and  old  rubbish  on  the  side 
toward  the  old  Louvre.  Henri  III.  and  his  favorites  in 
search  of  their  trunk-hose,  and  Marguerite's  lovers  in  search 
of  their  heads,  must  dance  sarabands  by  moonlight  in  this 
wilderness  overlooked  by  the  roof  of  a  chapel  still  standing 
there  as  if  to  prove  that  the  Catholic  religion — so  deeply 
rooted  in  France — survives  all  else. 

For  forty  years  now  has  the  Louvre  been  crying  out  by  every 
gap  in  these  damaged  walls,  by  every  yawning  window,  "  Rid 
me  of  these  warts  upon  my  face  !  "  This  cut-throat  lane  has 
no  doubt  been  regarded  as  useful,  and  has  been  thought 
necessary  as  symbolizing  in  the  heart  of  Paris  the  intimate 
connection  between  poverty  and  the  splendor  that  is  charac- 


58  THE  POOR  PARENTS, 

teristic  of  the  queen  of  cities.  And,  indeed,  these  chill  ruins, 
among  which  the  Legitimist  newspaper  contracted  the  disease 
it  is  dying  of — the  abominable  hovels  of  the  Rue  du  Musee, 
and  the  hi)arding  appropriated  by  the  store-stalls  that  flourish 
there — will  perhaps  live  longer  and  more  prosperously  than 
three  successive  dynasties. 

In  1823  the  low  rents  in  these  already  condemned  houses 
had  tempted  Lisbeth  Fischer  to  settle  there,  notwithstanding 
the  necessity  imposed  upon  her  by  the  state  of  the  neighbor- 
hood to  get  home  before  nightfall.  This  necessity,  however, 
was  in  accordance  with  the  country  habits  she  retained,  of 
rising  and  going  to  bed  with  the  sun,  an  arrangement  which 
saves  country  people  considerable  sums  in  light  and  fuel.  She 
lived  in  one  of  the  houses  which,  since  the  demolition  of  the 
famous  Hotel  Cambaceres,  command  a  view  of  the  whole 
Louvre  square. 

Just  as  Baron  Hulot  set  his  wife's  cousin  down  at  the  door 
of  this  house,  saying :  "  Good-night,  cousin,"  an  elegant-look- 
ing woman,  young,  small,  slender,  pretty,  beautifully  dressed, 
and  redolent  of  some  delicate  perfume,  passed  between  the 
wall  and  the  carriage  to  go  in.  This  lady,  without  any  pre- 
meditation, glanced  up  at  the  baron  merely  to  see  the  lodger's 
cousin,  and  the  libertine  at  once  felt  the  swift  impression 
which  all  Parisians  know  on  meeting  a  pretty  woman,  real- 
izing, as  entomologists  have  it,  their  desiderata  ;  so  he  waited 
to  put  on  one  of  his  gloves  with  judicious  deliberation  before 
getting  into  the  carriage  again,  to  give  himself  an  excuse  for 
allowing  his  eye  to  follow  the  young  woman,  whose  skirts 
were  pleasingly  set  out  by  something  else  than  those  odious 
and  delusive  crinoline  bustles. 

"That,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  is  a  nice  little  person  whose 
happiness  I  should  like  to  provide  for,  as  she  would  certainly 
secure  mine." 

When  the  unknown  fair  had  gone  into  the  hall  at  the  foot 
of  the  stairs  going  up  to  the  front  rooms,  she  glanced  at  the 


COUSIX  BETTY.  59 

gate  out  of  the  corner  of  her  eye  without  precisely  looking 
around,  and  she  could  see  the  baron  riveted  to  the  spot  in 
admiration,  consunaed  by  curiosity  and  desire.  This  is  to 
every  Parisian  woman  a  sort  of  flower  which  she  smells  at 
with  delight,  if  she  meets  it  on  her  way.  Nay,  certain  women, 
though  faithftii  to  their  duties,  pretty,  and  virtuous,  come 
home  much  put  out  if  they  have  failed  to  cull  such  a  posy  in 
the  course  of  their  walk. 

The  lady  ran  upstairs,  and  in  a  moment  a  window  on  the 
second  floor  was  thrown  open,  and  she  appeared  at  it,  but 
accompanied  by  a  man  whose  bald  head  and  somewhat  scowl- 
ing looks  announced  him  as  her  husband. 

"  If  they  aren't  sharp  and  ingenious,  the  cunning  jades !  " 
thought  the  baron.  "  She  does  that  to  show  me  where  she 
lives.  But  this  is  getting  rather  warm,  especially  for  this  part 
of  Paris.     We  must  mind  what  we  are  about." 

As  he  got  into  the  milord,  he  looked  up,  and  the  lady  aiMi 
the  husband  hastily  vanished,  as  though  the  baron's  face  had 
affected  them  like  the  mythological  head  of  Medusa. 

"  It  would  seem  that  they  know  me,"  thought  the  baron. 
"That  wotdd  account  for  ererything." 

As  the  carriage  went  up  the  Rue  du  Music,  be  leaned  for- 
ward to  see  the  lady  again,  and  in  §act  sbe  vas  agaia  at  the 
window.  Ashamed  of  being  caxi^H.  p^^S  ^  '^  hood  lader 
which  her  admirer  was  sitting,  the  ■lAiiuwn  started  bade  at 


once. 

"  The  Nanny  Goat  ^lall  tell  me  who  it  k,"  said  die  baroo 
to  himselt 

The  sight  of  the  GcnmmaA  oficiai  had,  as  vill  he  kcb, 
made  ade^  impasaam  on  tbmcampk. 

"  Why,  it  is  Baron  Hidot,  tbt  dnef  of  the  dt|uiltal  to 
which  my  office  belongs ! "  rrdarmcd  At  hodi^id  as  Ik  left 
the  window. 

"Wdl,  MzTBe«e,the  old  maid  oa  Oe  famtA  ftooratdbe 
bock  of  the  camrtyaid,  who  lifcs  w^  AatjaoBg 


60  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

cousin.  Is  it  not  odd  that  we  should  never  have  known  that 
till  to-day,  and  now  find  it  out  by  chance?" 

"Mademoiselle  Fischer  living  with  a  young  man?"  re- 
peated the  husband.  "  That  is  porter's  gossip ;  do  not  speak 
so  lightly  of  the  cousin  of  a  councilor  of  State  who  can  make 
the  sun  shine  and  the  rain  fall  in  the  office  as  he  pleases. 
Now,  come  to  dinner ;  I  have  been  waiting  for  you  since  four 
o'clock." 

Pretty — very  pretty — Madame  Marneffe,  the  natural  daugh- 
ter of  Comte  Montcornet,  one  of  Napoleon's  most  famous 
officers,  had,  on  the  strength  of  a  marriage  portion  of  twenty 
thousand  francs,  found  a  husband  in  an  inferior  official  at  the 
War  Office.  Through  the  interest  of  the  famous  lieutenant- 
general — made  marshal  of  France  six  months  before  his  death 
— this  quill-driver  had  risen  to  unhoped-for  dignity  as  head- 
clerk  of  his  office ;  but  just  as  he  was  to  be  promoted  to  be 
deputy-chief,  the  marshal's  death  had  cut  off  Marneffe's  ambi- 
tions and  his  wife's  at  the  root.  The  very  small  salary  en- 
joyed by  Sieur  Marneffe  had  compelled  the  couple  to  econo- 
mize in  the  matter  of  rent ;  for  in  his  hands  Mademoiselle 
Valerie  Fortin's  fortune  had  already  melted  away — partly  in 
paying  his  debts,  and  partly  in  the  purchase  of  necessaries  for 
furnishing  a  house,  but  chiefly  in  gratifying  the  requirements 
of  a  pretty  young  wife,  accustomed  in  her  mother's  house  to 
luxuries  she  did  not  choose  to  dispense  with.  The  situation 
of  the  Rue  du  Doyenne,  within  easy  distance  of  the  War 
Office  and  the  gay  part  of  Paris,  smiled  on  Monsieur  and 
Madame  Marneffe,  and  for  the  last  four  years  they  had  dwelt 
under  the  same  roof  as  Lisbeth  Fischer. 

Monsieur  Jean-Paul-Stanislas  Marneffe  was  one  of  the  class 
of  employes  who  escape  sheer  brutishness  by  the  kind  of 
power  that  comes  of  depravity.  The  small,  lean  creature, 
with  thin  hair  and  a  starved  beard,  an  unwholesome  pasty  face, 
worn  rather  than  wrinkled,  with  red-lidded  eyes  harnessed 
with  spectacles,  mean  and  shuffling  in  his  gait,  and  yet  meaner 


COUSIN  BETTY.  61 

in  his  appearance,  realized  the  type  of  man  that  any  one  would 
conceive  of  as  likely  to  be  placed  in  the  dock  for  an  offense 
against  decency. 

The  suite  of  rooms  inhabited  by  this  couple  had  the  illusory 
appearance  of  sham  luxury  seen  in  many  Paris  homes,  and 
typical  of  a  certain  class  of  household.  In  the  drawing-room, 
the  furniture  covered  with  shabby  cotton-velvet,  the  plaster 
statuettes  pretending  to  be  Florentine  bronze,  the  clumsy  cast 
chandelier  merely  lacquered,  with  cheap  glass  saucers,  the 
carpet,  whose  small  cost  was  accounted  for  in  advancing  life 
by  the  quantity  of  cotton  used  in  the  manufacture,  now  visible 
to  the  naked  eye — everything,  down  lo  the  curtains,  which 
plainly  showed  that  worsted  damask  has  not  three  years  of 
prime,  proclaimed  poverty  as  loudly  as  a  beggar  in  rags  at  a 
church  door. 

The  dining-room,  ill-kept  by  the  single  servant,  had  the 
sickening  aspect  of  a  country  inn ;  everything  looked  greasy 
and  unclean.. 

Monsieur's  room,  very  like  a  schoolboy's,  furnished  with 
the  bed  and  fittings  remaining  from  his  bachelor  days,  as 
shabby  and  worn  as  he  was,  dusted  perhaps  once  a  week — that 
horrible  room  where  everything  was  in  a  litter,  with  old  socks 
hanging  over  the  horsehair-seated  chairs,  the  pattern  out- 
lined in  dust,  was  that  of  a  man  to  whom  home  is  a  matter  of 
indifference,  who  lives  out  of  doors,  in  gambling-rooms  and 
cafes  or  elsewhere. 

Madame's  room  was  an  exception  to  the  squalid  slovenli- 
ness that  disgraced  the  living  rooms,  where  the  curtains  were 
yellow  with  smoke  and  dust,  and  where  the  child,  evidently 
left  to  himself,  littered  every  spot  with  his  toys.  Valerie's 
room  and  dressing-room  were  situated  in  the  part  of  the  house 
which,  on  one  side  of  the  courtyard,  joined  the  front  half, 
looking  out  on  the  street,  to  the  wing  forming  the  inner  side 
of  the  court  backing  against  the  adjoining  property.  Hand- 
somely hung  with  chintz,  furnished  with  rosewood,  and  thickly 


62  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

carpeted,  they  proclaimed  themselves  as  belonging  to  a  pretty 
woman — and  indeed  suggested  the  kept  mistress.  A  clock  in 
the  fashionable  style  stood  on  the  velvet-covered  mantelpiece. 
There  was  a  nicely  fitted  cabinet,  and  the  Chinese  flower- 
stands  were  handsomely  filled.  The  bed,  the  toilet-table,  the 
wardrobe  with  its  mirror-door,  the  little  tete-a-tete  sofa,  and 
all  the  lady's  frippery  bore  the  stamp  of  fashion  or  caprice. 
Though  everything  was  quite  third-rate  as  to  elegance  or 
quality,  and  nothing  was  absolutely  newer  than  three  years 
old,  a  dandy  would  have  had  no  fault  to  find  but  that  the 
taste  of  all  this  luxury  was  commonplace.  Art,  and  the  dis- 
tinction that  comes  of  the  choice  of  things  that  taste  assimi- 
lates, was  entirely  wanting.  A  doctor  of  social  science  would 
have  detected  a  lover  in  two  or  three  specimens  of  costly 
trumpery,  which  could  only  have  come  there  through  that 
demi-god — always  absent,  but  always  present  if  the  lady  is  a 
married  woman  of  the  Marneffe  type. 

The  dinner,  four  hours  behind  time,  to  which  the  husband, 
wife,  and  child  sat  down,  betrayed  the  financial  straits  in 
which  the  household  found  itself,  for  the  table  is  the  surest 
thermometer  for  gauging  the  income  of  a  Parisian  family. 
Vegetable  soup  made  with  the  water  haricot  beans  had  been 
boiled  in,  a  piece  of  stewed  veal  and  potatoes  sodden  with 
water  by  way  of  gravy,  a  dish  of  haricot  beans,  and  some 
cheap  cherries,  served  and  eaten  in  cracked  plates  and  dishes, 
with  the  dull-looking  and  dull-sounding  forks  of  German- 
silver — was  this  a  banquet  worthy  of  this  pretty  young 
woman  ?  The  baron  would  have  wept  could  he  have  seen  it. 
The  dingy  decanters  could  not  disguise  the  vile  hue  of  wine 
bought  by  the  pint  at  some  corner  wineshop.  The  table- 
napkins  had  seen  a  week's  use.  In  short,  everything  betrayed 
undignified  penury,  and  the  equal  indifference  of  the  husband 
and  wife  to  the  decencies  of  home.  The  most  superficial 
observer  on  seeing  them  would  have  said  that  these  two  beings 
had  come  to  the  stage  when  the  necessity  of  living  had  pre- 


COUSIN  BETTY.  63 

pared  them  for  any  kind  of  dishonor  that  might  bring  luck  to 
them.  Valerie's  first  words  to  her  husband  will  explain  the 
delay  that  had  postponed  the  dinner  by  the  not  disinterested 
devotion  of  the  cook. 

"Samanon  will  only  take  your  bills  at  fifty  per  cent.,  and 
insists  on  a  lien  on  your  salary  as  security." 

So  poverty,  still  unconfessed  in  the  house  of  the  superior 
official,  and  hidden  under  a  stipend  of  twenty-four  thousand 
francs,  irrespective  of  presents,  had  reached  its  lowest  stage  in 
that  of  the  clerk. 

"  You  have  caught  on  with  the  chief,"  said  the  man,  look- 
ing at  his  wife. 

"I  rather  think  so,"  replied  she,  understanding  the  full 
meaning  of  his  slang  expression. 

"What  is  to  become  of  us?"  Marneffe  went  on.  "The 
landlord  will  be  down  on  us  to-morrow.  And  to  think  of 
your  father  dying  without  making  a  will !  On  my  honor, 
those  men  of  the  Empire  all  think  themselves  as  immortal  as 
their  Emperor." 

"  Poor  father  !  "  said  she.  "  I  was  his  only  child,  and  he 
was  very  fond  of  me.  The  countess  probably  burned  the  will. 
How  could  he  possibly  forget  me  when  he  used  to  give  us  as 
much  as  three  or  four  thousand-franc  notes  at  once,  from  time 
to  time?" 

**  We  owe  four  quarters'  rent,  fifteen  hundred  francs.  Is 
the  furniture  worth  so  much?  'That  is  the  question,'  as 
Shakespeare  says." 

"Now,  good-by,  ducky!"  said  Valerie,  who  had  only 
eaten  a  few  mouthfuls  of  the  veal,  from  which  the  maid  had 
extracted  all  the  gravy  for  a  brave  soldier  just  home  from 
Algiers.     "  Great  evils  demand  heroic  remedies." 

"Valerie,  where  are  you  going?"  cried  Marneffe,  standing 
between  his  wife  and  the  door. 

"lam  going  to  see  the  landlord,"  she  replied,  arranging 
her  ringlets  under  her  smart  bonnet.     "  You  had  better  try 


64  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

to  make  friends  with  that  old  maid,  if  she  really  is  your  chief's 
cousin." 

The  ignorance  in  which  the  dwellers  under  one  roof  can 
exist  as  to  the  social  position  of  their  fellow-lodgers  is  a  per- 
manent fact  which,  as  much  as  any  other,  shows  what  the  rush 
of  Paris  life  is.  Still,  it  is  easily  conceivable  that  a  clerk  who 
goes  early  every  morning  to  his  office,  comes  home  only  to 
dinner,  and  spends  every  evening  out,  and  a  woman  swallowed 
up  in  a  round  of  pleasures,  should  know  nothing  of  an  old 
maid  living  on  the  fourth  floor  beyond  the  courtyard  of  the 
house  they  dwell  in,  especially  when  she  lives  as  Mademoiselle 
Fischer  did. 

Up  in  the  morning  before  any  one  else,  Lisbeth  went  out 
to  buy  her  bread,  milk,  and  live  charcoal,  never  speaking  to 
any  one,  and  she  went  to  bed  with  the  sun ;  she  never  had  a 
letter  or  a  visitor,  nor  chatted  with  her  neighbors.  Here  was 
one  of  those  anonymous,  entomological  existences  such  as  are 
to  be  met  with  in  many  large  tenements  where,  at  the  end  of 
four  years,  you  unexpectedly  learn  that  up  on  the  fourth 
floor  there  is  an  old  man  lodging  who  knew  Voltaire,  PilStre 
de  Rozier,  Beaujon,  Marcel,  Mole,  Sophie  Arnould,  Franklin, 
and  Robespierre.  What  Monsieur  and  Madame  Marneffe  had 
just  said  concerning  Lisbeth  Fischer  they  had  come  to  know,* 
in  consequence,  partly,  of  the  loneliness  of  the  neighborhood, 
and  of  the  alliance,  to  which  their  necessities  had  led,  between 
them  and  the  doorkeepers,  whose  good-will  was  too  important 
to  them  not  to  have  been  carefully  encouraged. 

Now,  the  old  maid's  pride,  silence,  and  reserve  had  engen- 
dered in  the  porter  and  his  wife  the  exaggerated  respect  and 
cold  civility  which  betray  the  unconfessed  annoyance  of  an 
inferior.  Also,  the  janitor  thought  himself  in  all  essentials 
the  equal  of  any  lodger  whose  rent  was  no  more  than  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  francs.  Cousin  Betty's  confidences  to  Hortense 
were  true ;  and  it  is  evident  that  the  janitor's  wife  might  be 


COUSIN  BETTY.  65 

very  likely  to  slander  Mademoiselle  Fischer  in  her  intimate 
gossip  with  the  Marneffes,  while  only  intending  to  tell  tales. 

When  Lisbeth  had  taken  her  candle  from  the  hands  of 
worthy  Madame  Olivier,  the  portress,  she  looked  up  to  see 
whether  the  windows  of  the  garret  over  her  own  rooms  were 
lighted  up.  At  that  hour,  even  in  July,  it  was  so  dark  within 
the  courtyard  that  the  old  maid  could  not  get  to  bed  without 
a  light. 

"  Oh,  you  may  be  quite  easy,  Monsieur  Steinbock  is  in  his 
room.  He  has  not  been  out  even,"  said  Madame  Olivier, 
with  meaning. 

Lisbeth  made  no  reply.  She  was  still  a  peasant,  in  so  far 
that  she  was  indifferent  to  the  gossip  of  persons  unconnected 
with  her.  Just  as  a  peasant  sees  nothing  beyond  his  village,  she 
cared  for  nobody's  opinion  outside  the  little  circle  in  which 
she  lived.  So  she  boldly  went  up,  not  to  her  own  room,  but 
to  the  garret ;  and  this  is  why :  At  dessert  she  had  filled  her 
bag  with  fruit  and  sweets  for  her  lover,  and  she  went  to  give 
them  to  him,  exactly  as  an  old  lady  brings  home  a  biscuit  for 
her  dog. 

She  found  the  hero  of  Hortense's  dreams  working  by  the 
light  of  a  small  lamp,  of  which  the  light  was  intensified  by  the 
use  of  a  bottle  of  water  as  a  lens — a  pale  young  man,  seated 
at  a  workman's  bench  covered  with  a  modeler's  tools,  wax, 
chisels,  rough-hewn  stone,  and  bronze  castings;  he  wore  a 
blouse,  and  had  in  his  hand  a  little  group  in  red  wax,  at 
which  he  gazed  like  a  poet  absorbed  in  his  labors. 

"  Here,  Wenceslas,  see  what  I  have  brought  you,"  said  she, 
laying  her  handkerchief  on  a  corner  of  the  table ;  then  she 
carefully  took  the  sweetmeats  and  fruit  out  of  her  bag. 

"You  are  very  kind,  mademoiselle,"  replied  the  exile  in 
melancholy  tones. 

"  It  will  do  you  good,  poor  boy.  You  get  feverish  by 
working  so  hardj  you  were  not  born  to  such  a  rough  life." 

Wenceslas  Steinbock  looked  at  her  with  a  bewildered  air. 
5 


66  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

"Eat — come,  eat,"  said  she  sharply,  "  instead  of  looking 
at  me  as  you  do  at  one  of  your  images  when  you  are  satisfied 
with  it." 

On  being  thus  cuffed  with  words,  as  it  were,  che  young 
man  seemed  less  puzzled,  for  this,  indeed,  was  the  female 
Mentor  whose  tender  moods  were  always  a  surprise  to  him,  so 
much  more  accustomed  was  he  to  be  scolded. 

Though  Steinbock  was  nine-and-twenty,  like  many  fair  men, 
he  looked  five  or  six  years  younger ;  and  seeing  his  youth, 
though  its  freshness  had  faded  under  the  fatigue  and  stress  of 
life  in  exile,  by  the  side  of  that  dry,  hard  face,  it  seemed  as 
though  Nature  had  blundered  in  the  distribution  of  sex.     He 
rose   and   threw   himself  into   a  deep   chair  of  Louis   XV. 
pattern,  covered  with  yellow  Utrecht  velvet,  as  if  to  rest  him- 
self.    The  old  maid  took  a  greengage  and  offered  it  him. 
"Thank  you,"  said  he,  taking  the  plum. 
**  Are  you  tired  ?  "  said  she,  giving  him  another. 
"  I  am  not  tired  with  work,  but  tired  of  life,"  said  he. 
"What  absurd    notions  you  have!"  she  exclaimed  with 
some  annoyance.      "  Have  you  not  a  good  genius  to  keep  an 
eye  on  you?"  she  said,  offering   him  the   sweetmeats,  and 
watching  him  with  pleasure  as  he  ate  them  all.     "  You  see, 
I  thought  of  you  when  dining  with  my  cousin." 

"I  know,"  said  he,  with  a  look  at  Lisbeth  that  was  at  once 
affectionate  and  plaintive,  "  but  for  you  I  should  long  since 
have  ceased   to  live.       But,   my  dear   lady,    artists   require 

relaxation " 

"Ah  !  there  we  come  to  the  point !  "  cried  she,  interrupt- 
ing him,  her  hands  on  her  hips,  and  her  flashing  eyes  fixed 
on  him.  "You  want  to  go  wasting  your  health  in  the  vile 
resorts  of  Paris,  like  so  many  artisans,  who  end  by  dying  in 
the  workhouse.  No,  no.  Make  a  fortune,  and  then,  when  you 
have  money  in  the  Funds,  you  may  amuse  yourself,  child ; 
then  you  will  have  enough  to  pay  both  for  the  doctor  and  your 
pleasure,  libertine  that  you  are." 


COUSIN  BETTY.  67 

Wenceslas  Steinbock,  on  receiving  this  broadside,  with  an 
accompaniment  of  looks  that  pierced  him  like  a  magnetic 
flame,  bent  his  head.  The  most  malignant  slanderer  on  seeing 
this  scene  would  at  once  have  understood  that  the  hints  thrown 
out  by  the  Oliviers  were  false.  Everything  in  this  couple, 
their  tone,  manner,  and  way  of  looking  at  each  other,  proved 
the  purity  of  their  private  life.  The  old  maid  showed  the 
affection  of  rough  but  very  genuine  maternal  feeling;  the 
young  man  submitted,  as  a  respectful  son  yields  to  the  tyranny 
of  a  mother.  The  strange  alliance  seemed  to  be  the  outcome 
of  a  strong  will  acting  constantly  on  a  weak  character,  on  the 
fluid  nature  peculiar  to  the  Slavs,  which,  while  it  does  not 
hinder  them  from  showing  heroic  courage  in  battle,  gives 
them  an  amazing  incoherency  of  conduct,  a  moral  softness  of 
which  physiologists  ought  to  try  to  detect  the  causes,  since 
physiologists  are  to  political  life  what  entomologists  are  to 
agriculture. 

"But  if  I  die  before  I  am  rich?"  said  Wenceslas  most 
dolefully. 

"  Die  !  "  cried  she.  "  Oh,  I  will  not  let  you  die.  I  have 
life  enough  for  both,  and  I  would  have  my  blood  injected  into 
your  veins  if  necessary. " 

Tears  rose  to  Steinbock's  eyes  as  he  heard  her  vehement 
and  artless  speech. 

"  Do  not  be  unhappy,  my  little  Wenceslas,"  said  Lisbeth 
with  feeling.  "  My  cousin  Hortense  thought  your  seal  quite 
pretty,  I  am  sure ;  and  I  will  manage  to  sell  your  bronze 
group,  you  will  see ;  you  will  have  paid  me  off,  you  will  be 
able  to  do  as  you  please,  you  will  soon  be  free.  Come,  smile 
a  little!" 

"  I  can  never  repay  you,  mademoiselle,"  said  the  exile. 

"And  why  not?"  asked  the  peasant  woman,  taking  the 
Livonian's  part  against  herself. 

"  Because  you  not  only  fed  me,  lodged  me,  cared  for  me  in 
my  poverty,  but  you  also  gave  me  strength.     You  have  made 


68  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

me  what  I  am ;  you  have  often  been  stern,  you  have  made  me 
very  unhappy " 

"  I?  "  said  the  old  maid.  "  Are  you  going  to  pour  out  all 
your  nonsense  once  more  about  poetry  and  the  arts,  and  to 
crack  your  fingers  and  stretch  your  arms  while  you  spout 
about  the  ideal,  and  beauty,  and  all  your  northern  madness  ? 
Beauty  is  not  to  compare  with  solid  pudding — and  that  am  I ! 
You  have  ideas  in  your  brain  ?  What  is  the  use  of  them  ?  I 
too  have  ideas.  What  is  the  good  of  all  the  fine  things  you 
may  have  in  your  soul  if  you  can  make  no  use  of  them  ? 
Those  who  have  ideas  do  not  get  so  far  as  those  who  have 
none,  if  they  don't  know  which  way  to  go. 

"  Instead  of  thinking  over  your  ideas,  you  must  work. 
Now,  what  have  you  done  while  I  was  out  ?  " 

"What  did  your  pretty  cousin  say?" 

"Who  told  you  she  was  pretty?"  asked  Lisbeth  sharply, 
in  a  tone  hollow  with  tiger- like  jealousy. 

"Why,  you  did." 

"  That  was  only  to  see  your  face.  Do  you  want  to  go 
trotting  after  petticoats?  You  who  are  so  fond  of  women, 
well,  make  them  in  bronze.  Let  us  see  a  cast  of  your  desires, 
for  you  will  have  to  do  without  the  ladies  for  some  little  time 
yet,  and  certainly  without  my  cousin,  my  good  fellow.  She 
is  not  game  for  your  bag ;  that  young  lady  wants  a  man  with 
sixty  thousand  francs  a  year — and  has  found  him  ! 

"Why,  your  bed  is  not  made!"  she  exclaimed,  looking 
into  the  adjoining  room.  "Poor  dear  boy,  I  quite  forgot 
you !  " 

The  sturdy  woman  pulled  off  her  gloves,  her  cape  and  bon- 
net, and  remade  the  artist's  little  camp  bed  as  briskly  as  any 
housemaid.  This  mixture  of  abruptness,  of  roughness  even, 
with  real  kindness,  perhaps  accounts  for  the  ascendency  Lis- 
beth had  acquired  over  the  man  whom  she  regarded  as  her 
personal  property.  Is  not  our  attachment  to  life  based  on  its 
alternations  of  good  and  evil  ? 


COUSIN  BETTY.  69 

If  the  Livonian  had  happened  to  meet  Madame  Marneffe 
instead  of  Lisbeth  Fischer,  he  would  have  found  a  protectress 
whose  complaisance  must  have  led  him  into  some  boggy  or 
discreditable  path,  where  he  would  have  been  lost.  He  would 
certainly  never  have  worked,  nor  the  artist  have  been  hatched 
out.  Thus,  while  he  deplored  the  old  maid's  grasping  avarice, 
his  reason  bade  him  prefer  her  iron  hand  to  the  life  of  idle- 
ness and  peril  led  by  many  of  his  fellow-countrymen. 

This  was  the  incident  that  had  given  rise  to  the  coalition 
of  female  energy  and  masculine  feebleness — a  contrast  in 
union  said  not  to  be  uncommon  in  Poland. 

In  1833  Mademoiselle  Fischer,  who  sometimes  worked  into 
the  night  when  business  was  good,  at  about  one  o'clock  one 
morning  perceived  a  strong  smell  of  carbonic  acid  gas,  and 
heard  the  groans  of  a  dying  man.  The  fumes  and  the  gasping 
came  from  a  garret  over  the  two  rooms  forming  her  dwelling, 
and  she  supposed  that  a  young  man  who  had  but  lately  come 
to  lodge  in  this  attic — which  had  been  vacant  for  three  years 
— was  committing  suicide.  She  ran  upstairs,  broke  in  the 
door  by  a  push  with  her  peasant  strength,  and  found  the 
lodger  writhing  on  a  camp-bed  in  the  convulsions  of  death. 
She  extinguished  the  brazier;  the  door  was  open,  the  air 
rushed  in,  and  the  exile  was  saved.  Then,  when  Lisbeth  had 
put  him  to  bed  like  a  patient,  and  he  was  asleep,  she  could 
detect  the  motives  of  his  suicide  in  the  destitution  of  the 
rooms,  where  there  was  nothing  whatever  but  a  wretched 
table,  the  camp-bed,  and  two  chairs. 

On  the  table  lay  a  document,  which  she  read  : 

"I  am  Count  Wenceslas  Steinbock,  born  at  Prelia,  in 
Livonia. 

"  No  one  is  to  be  accused  of  my  death  ;  my  reasons  for  kill- 
ing myself  are,  in  the  words  of  Kosciusko  :    Finis  Polonice  ! 

'*  The  grand-nephew  of  a  valiant  general  under  Charles  XII. 


70  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

could  not  beg.  My  weakly  constitution  forbids  my  taking 
military  service,  and  I  yesterday  saw  the  last  of  the  hundred 
thalers  which  I  brought  with  me  from  Dresden  to  Paris.  I 
have  left  twenty-five  francs  in  the  drawer  of  this  table  to  pay 
the  rent  I  owe  to  the  landlord. 

**  My  parents  being  dead,  my  death  will  affect  nobody.  I 
desire  that  my  countrymen  will  not  blame  the  French  Govern- 
ment. I  have  never  registered  myself  as  a  refugee,  and  I 
have  asked  for  nothing ;  I  have  met  none  of  my  fellow-exiles ; 
no  one  in  Paris  knows  of  my  existence 

"I  die  in  the  Christian  belief.  May  God  forgive  the  last 
of  the  Steinbocks  !  Wenceslas.  ' ' 

Mademoiselle  Fischer,  deeply  touched  by  the  dying  man's 
honesty,  opened  the  drawer  and  found  the  five  five-franc 
pieces  to  pay  his  rent. 

"  Poor  young  man  !  "  cried  she.  "And  with  no  one  in  the 
world  to  care  about  him  ! ' ' 

She  went  downstairs  to  fetch  her  work,  and  sat  stitching  in 
the  garret,  watching  over  the  Livonian  gentleman. 

When  he  awoke  his  astonishment  may  be  imagined  on  find- 
ing a  woman  sitting  by  his  bed ;  it  was  like  the  prolongation 
of  a  dream.  As  she  sat  there,  covering  aiguillettes  with  gold 
thread,  the  old  maid  had  resolved  to  take  charge  of  the  poor 
youth  whom  she  had  admired  as  he  lay  sleeping. 

As  soon  as  the  young  count  was  fully  awake,  Lisbeth  talked 
to  give  him  courage,  and  questioned  him  to  find  out  how  he 
might  make  a  living.  Wenceslas,  after  telling  his  story,  added 
that  he  owed  his  position  to  his  acknowledged  talent  for  the 
fine  arts.  He  had  always  had  a  preference  for  sculpture  ;  the 
necessary  time  for  study  had,  however,  seemed  to  him  too 
long  for  a  man  without  money ;  and  at  this  moment  he  was 
far  too  weak  to  do  any  hard  manual  labor  or  undertake  an  im- 
portant work  in  sculpture.  All  this  was  Greek  to  Lisbeth 
Fischer.    She  replied  to  the  unhappy  man  that  Paris  offered  so 


COUSIN-  BETTY.  71 

many  openings  that  any  man  with  will  and  courage  might  find 
a  living  there.  A  man  of  spirit  need  never  perish  if  he  had  a 
certain  stock  of  endurance. 

"I  am  but  a  poor  girl  myself,  a  peasant,  and  I  have  man- 
aged to  make  myself  independent,"  said  she  in  conclusion. 
"  If  you  will  work  in  earnest,  I  have  saved  a  little  money, 
and  I  will  lend  you,  month  by  month,  enough  to  live  upon  ; 
but  to  live  frugally,  and  not  to  play  ducks  and  drakes  with  or 
squander  in  the  streets.  You  can  dine  in  Paris  for  twenty- 
five  sous  a  day,  and  I  will  get  you  your  breakfast  with  mine 
every  day.  I  will  furnish  your  rooms  and  pay  for  such  teach- 
ing as  you  may  think  necessary.  You  shall  give  me  formal 
acknowledgment  for  the  money  I  may  lay  out  for  you,  and 
when  you  are  rich  you  shall  repay  me  all.  But  if  you  do  not 
work,  I  shall  not  regard  myself  as  in  any  way  pledged  to  you, 
and  I  shall  leave  you  to  your  fate." 

**  Ah  !  "  cried  the  poor  fellow,  still  smarting  from  the  bit- 
terness of  his  first  struggle  with  death,  *'  exiles  from  every 
land  may  well  stretch  out  their  hands  to  France,  as  the  souls 
in  Purgatory  do  to  Paradise.  In  what  other  country  is  such 
help  to  be  found,  and  generous  hearts  even  in  such  a  garret 
as  this  ?  You  will  be  everything  to  me,  my  beloved  benefac- 
tress; I  am  your  slave  !  Be  my  sweetheart,"  he  added,  with 
one  of  the  caressing  gestures  familiar  to  the  Poles,  for  which 
they  are  unjustly  accused  of  servility. 

**  Oh,  no;  I  am  too  jealous,  I  should  make  you  unhappy; 
but  I  will  gladly  be  a  sort  of  comrade,"  replied  Lisbeth. 

**Ah,  if  only  you  knew  how  I  longed  for  some  fellow- 
creature,  even  a  tyrant,  who  would  have  something  to  say  to 
me  when  I  was  struggling  in  the  vast  solitude  of  Paris!" 
exclaimed  Wenceslas.  "  I  regretted  Siberia,  whither  I  should 
be  sent  by  the  Emperor  if  I  went  home.  Be  my  Providence  ! 
I  will  work;  I  will  be  a  better  man  than  I  am,  though  I  am 
not  such  a  bad  fellow  !  " 

**  Will  you  do  whatever  I  bid  you?  "  she  asked. 


72  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

"Yes." 

**  Well,  then,  I  will  adopt  you  as  my  child,"  said  she 
lightly.  "  Here  I  am  with  a  son  risen  from  the  grave. 
Come  !  we  will  begin  at  once.  I  will  go  out  and  get  what  I 
want ;  you  can  dress,  and  come  down  to  breakfast  with  me 
when  I  knock  on  the  ceiling  with  the  broomstick." 

That  day.  Mademoiselle  Fischer  made  some  inquiries,  at 
the  houses  to  which  she  carried  her  work  home,  as  to  the 
business  of  a  sculptor.  By  dint  of  many  questions  she  ended 
by  hearing  of  the  studio  kept  by  Florent  and  Chanor,  a  house 
that  made  a  special  business  of  casting  and  finishing  decorative 
bronzes  and  handsome  plate.  Thither  she  went  with  Stein- 
bock,  recommending  him  as  an  apprentice  in  sculpture,  an 
idea  that  was  regarded  as  too  eccentric.  Their  business  was 
to  copy  the  works  of  the  greatest  artists,  but  they  did  not 
teach  the  craft.  The  old  maid's  persistent  obstinacy  so  far 
succeeded  that  Steinbock  was  taken  on  to  design  ornament. 
He  very  soon  learned  to  model  ornament,  and  invented 
novelties ;  he  had  a  gift  for  it. 

Five  months  after  he  was  out  of  his  apprenticeship  as  a 
finisher,  he  made  acquaintance  with  Stidmann,  the  famous 
head  of  Florent's  studios.  Within  twenty  months  Wenceslas 
was  ahead  of  his  master;  but  in  thirty  months  the  old  maid's 
savings  of  sixteen  years  had  melted  entirely.  Two  thousand 
five  hundred  francs  in  gold  ! — a  sum  with  which  she  had  in- 
tended to  purchase  an  annuity ;  and  what  was  there  to  show 
for  it?  A  Pole's  receipt !  And  at  this  moment  Lisbeth  was 
working  as  hard  as  in  her  young  days  to  supply  the  needs  of 
her  Livonian. 

When  she  found  herself  the  possessor  of  a  piece  of  paper 
instead  of  her  gold  louis,  she  lost  her  head,  and  went  to  con- 
sult Monsieur  Rivet,  who  for  fifteen  years  had  been  his  clever 
head-worker's  friend  and  counselor.  On  hearing  her  story, 
Monsieur  and  Madame  Rivet  scolded  Lisbeth,  told  her  she 
was  crazy,  abused  all  refugees  whose  plots  for  reconstructing 


COUSIN  BETTY.  73 

their  nation  compromised  the  prosperity  of  the  country  and 
the  maintenance  of  peace;  and  they  urged  Lisbeth  to  find 
what  in  trade  is  called  security. 

"  The  only  hold  you  have  over  this  fellow  is  on  his  liberty," 
observed  Monsieur  Rivet. 

Monsieur  Achille  Rivet  was  assessor  at  the  Tribunal  of 
Commerce. 

"  Imprisonment  is  no  joke  for  a  foreigner,"  said  he.  "  A 
Frenchman  remains  five  years  in  prison  and  comes  out,  free 
of  his  debts  to  be  sure,  for  he  is  thenceforth  bound  only  by 
his  conscience,  and  that  never  troubles  him  ;  but  a  foreigner 
never  comes  out.  Give  me  your  promissory  note ;  my  book- 
keeper will  take  it  up ;  he  will  get  it  protested ;  you  will  both 
be  prosecuted  and  both  be  condemned  to  imprisonment  in 
default  of  payment ;  then,  when  everything  is  in  due  form, 
you  must  sign  a  declaration.  By  doing  this  your  interest  will 
be  accumulating,  and  you  will  have  a  pistol  always  primed  to 
fire  at  your  Pole  !  " 

The  old  maid  allowed  these  legal  steps  to  be  taken,  telling 
her  protege  not  to  be  uneasy,  as  the  proceedings  were  merely 
to  afford  a  guarantee  to  a  money-lender  who  agreed  to  advance 
them  certain  sums.  This  subterfuge  was  due  to  the  inventive 
genius  of  Monsieur  Rivet.  The  guileless  artist,  blindly  trust- 
ing to  his  benefactress,  lighted  his  pipe  with  the  stamped 
paper,  for  he  smoked,  as  all  men  do  who  have  sorrows  or 
energies  that  need  soothing. 

One  fine  day  Monsieur  Rivet  showed  Mademoiselle  Fischer 
a  schedule,  and  said  to  her : 

"  Here  you  have  Wenceslas  Steinbock  bound  hand  and  foot, 
and  so  efiFectually,  that  within  twenty-four  hours  you  can  have 
him  snug  in  Clichy  for  the  rest  of  his  days." 

This  worthy  and  honest  judge  at  the  Chamber  of  Commerce 
experienced  that  day  the  satisfaction  that  must  come  of  having 
done  a  malignant-good  action.  Beneficence  has  so  many  as- 
pects in  Paris  that  this  contradictory  expression  really  repre- 


74  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

sents  one  of  them.  The  Livonian  being  fairly  entangled  in 
the  toils  of  commercial  procedure,  the  point  was  to  obtain 
payment ;  for  the  illustrious  tradesman  looked  on  Wenceslas 
as  a  swindler.  Feeling,  sincerity,  poetry,  were  in  his  eyes 
mere  folly  in  business  matters. 

So  Rivet  went  off  to  see,  in  behalf  of  that  poor  Mademoiselle 
Fischer,  who,  as  he  said,  had  been  "done"  by  the  Pole,  the 
rich  manufacturers  for  whom  Steinbock  had  worked.  It  hap- 
pened that  Stidmann — who,  with  the  help  of  these  distin- 
guished masters  of  the  goldsmiths'  art,  was  raising  French 
work  to  the  perfection  it  has  now  reached,  allowing  it  to  hold 
its  own  against  Florence  and  the  Renaissance — Stidmann  was 
in  Chanor's  private  room  when  the  army  lace  manufacturer 
called  to  make  inquiries  as  to  "  One  Steinbock,  a  Polish 
refugee." 

•  "Whom  do  you  call  'One  Steinbock?'  Do  you  mean  a 
young  Livonian  who  was  a  pupil  of  mine?"  cried  Stidmann 
ironically.  "  I  may  tell  you,  monsieur,  that  he  is  a  very  great 
artist.  It  is  said  of  me  that  I  believe  myself  to  be  the  devil. 
Well,  that  poor  fellow  does  not  know  that  he  is  capable  of 
becoming  a  god." 

"Indeed,"  said  Rivet,  well  pleased.  And  then  he  added, 
"  though  you  take  a  rather  cavalier  tone  with  a  man  who  has 
the  honor  to  be  an  assessor  on  the  Tribunal  of  Commerce  of 
the  Department  of  the  Seine." 

"  Your  pardon,  consul !  "  said  Stidmann,  with  a  military 
salute. 

"  I  am  delighted,"  the  assessor  went  on,  "  to  hear  what  you 
say.     The  man  may  make  money  then  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  said  Chanor ;  "  but  he  must  work.  He  would 
have  a  tidy  sum  by  now  if  he  had  stayed  with  us.  What  is  to 
be  done  ?    Artists  have  a  horror  of  not  being  free." 

"They  have  a  proper  sense  of  their  value  and  dignity," 
replied  Stidmann.  "I  do  not  blame  Wenceslas  for  walking 
alone,  trying  to  make  a  name,  and  to  become  a  great  man ; 


COUSIN  BETTY,  75 

he  had  a  right  to  do  so  !     But  he  was  a  great  loss  to  me  when 

he  left." 

"That,  you  see,"  exclaimed  Rivet,  "  is  what  all  young 
students  aim  at  as  soon  as  they  are  hatched  out  of  the  school- 
egg.  Begin  by  saving  money,  I  say,  and  seek  glory  after- 
ward." 

"  It  spoils  your  touch  to  be  picking  up  coin,"  said  Stid- 
mann.     "  It  is  Glory's  business  to  bring  us  wealth." 

"And,  after  all,"  said  Chanor  to  Rivet,  "you  cannot 
tether  them." 

"They  would  eat  the  halter,"  replied  Stidmann. 

"All  these  gentlemen  have  as  much  caprice  as  talent," 
said  Chanor,  looking  at  Stidmann.  "  They  spend  no  end  of 
money  ;  they  keep  their  girls,  they  throw  coin  out  of  window, 
and  then  they  have  no  time  to  work.  They  neglect  their  orders  ; 
we  have  to  employ  workmen  who  are  very  inferior,  but  who 
grow  rich ;  and  then  they  complain  of  the  hard  times,  while, 
if  they  were  but  steady,  they  might  have  piles  of  gold." 

"You  old  Lumignon,"  said  Stidmann,  "you  remind  me 
of  the  publisher,  before  the  Revolution,  who  said  :  *  If  only  I 
could  keep  Montesquieu,  Voltaire,  and  Rousseau  very  poor  in 
my  back-shed,  and  lock  up  their  breeches  in  a  cupboard, 
what  a  lot  of  nice  little  books  they  would  write  to  make  my 
fortune.'  If  works  of  art  could  be  hammered  out  like  nails, 
workmen  would  make  them.  Give  me  a  thousand  francs,  and 
don't  talk  nonsense." 

Worthy  Monsieur  Rivet  went  home,  delighted  for  poor 
Mademoiselle  Fischer,  who  dined  with  him  every  Monday,  and 
whom  he  found  waiting  for  him. 

"If  you  can  only  make  him  work,"  said  he,  "you  will 
have  more  luck  than  wisdom ;  you  will  be  repaid,  interest, 
capital,  and  costs.  This  Pole  has  talent,  he  can  make  a  living ; 
but  lock  up  his  trousers  and  his  shoes,  do  not  let  him  go  to 
the  Chaumidre  or  the  parish  of  Notre-Dame  de  Lorette,  keep 
him  in  leading-strings.     If  you  do  not  take  such  precautions, 


76  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

your  artist  will  take  to  loafing,  and  if  you  only  knew  what 
these  artists  mean  by  loafing  1  Shocking !  Why,  I  have 
just  heard  that  they  will  spend  a  thousand-franc  note  in  a 
day !  " 

This  episode  had  a  fatal  influence  on  the  home-life  of 
Wenceslas  and  Lisbeth.  The  benefactress  flavored  the  exile's 
bread  with  the  wormwood  of  reproof,  now  that  she  saw  her 
money  in  danger,  and  often  believed  it  to  be  lost.  From  a 
kind  mother  she  became  a  stepmother  ;  she  took  the  poor  boy 
to  task,  she  nagged  him,  scolded  him  for  working  too  slowly, 
and  blamed  him  for  having  chosen  so  difficult  a  profession. 
She  could  not  believe  that  those  models  in  red  wax — little 
figures  and  sketches  for  ornamental  work — could  be  of  any 
value.  Betore  long,  vexed  with  herself  for  her  severity,  she 
would  try  to  efface  the  tears  by  her  care  and  attention. 

Then  the  poor  young  man,  after  groaning  to  think  that  he 
was  dependent  on  this  shrew  and  under  the  thumb  of  a 
peasant  of  the  Vosges,  was  bewitched  by  her  coaxing  ways 
and  by  a  maternal  affection  that  attached  itself  solely  to  the 
physical  and  material  side  of  life.  He  was  like  a  woman  who 
forgives  a  week  of  ill-usage  for  the  sake  of  a  kiss  and  a  brief 
reconciliation. 

Thus  Mademoiselle  Fischer  obtained  complete  power  over 
his  mind.  The  love  of  dominion  that  lay  as  a  germ  in  the 
old  maid's  heart  developed  rapidly.  She  could  not  satisfy 
her  pride  and  her  craving  for  action  ;  had  she  not  a  creature 
belonging  to  her,  to  be  schooled,  scolded,  flattered,  and  made 
happy,  without  any  fear  of  a  rival  ?  Thus  the  good  and  bad 
sides  of  her  nature  alike  found  play.  If  she  sometimes 
victimized  the  poor  artist,  she  had,  on  the  other  hand, 
delicate  impulses  like  the  grace  of  wild  flowers;  it  was  a  joy 
to  her  to  provide  for  all  his  wants ;  she  would  have  given  her 
life  for  him,  and  Wenceslas  knew  it.  Like  every  noble  soul, 
the  poor  fellow  forgot  the  bad  points,  the  defects  of  the 
woman  who  had  told  him  the  story  of  her  life  as  an  excuse 


COUSIN  BETTY.  Tl 

for  her  rough  ways,  and  he  remembered  only  the  benefits  she 
had  done  him. 

One  day,  exasperated  with  Wenceslas  for  having  gone  out 
walking  instead  of  sitting  at  work,  she  made  a  great  scene. 

"You  belong  to  me,"  said  she.  "  If  you  were  an  honest 
man,  you  would  try  to  repay  me  the  money  you  owe  as  soon 
as  possible." 

The  gentleman,  in  whose  veins  the  blood  of  the  Steinbocks 
was  fired,  turned  pale. 

"  Bless  me,"  she  went  on,  "  we  soon  shall  have  nothing  to 
live  on  but  the  thirty  sous  I  earn — a  poor  workwoman  !  " 

The  two  penniless  creatures,  worked  up  by  their  own  war 
of  words,  grew  vehement ;  and  for  the  first  time  the  unhappy 
artist  reproached  his  benefactress  for  having  rescued  him  from 
death  only  to  make  him  lead  the  life  of  a  galley  slave,  worse 
than  the  bottomless  void,  where  at  least,  said  he,  he  would 
have  found  rest.     And  he  talked  of  flight. 

"Flight!"  cried  Lisbeth.  "Ah,  Monsieur  Rivet  was 
right." 

And  she  clearly  explained  to  the  Pole,  chapter  and  verse, 
that  within  twenty-four  hours  he  might  be  clapped  into  prison 
for  the  rest  of  his  days.  It  was  a  crushing  blow.  Steinbock 
sank  into  deep  melancholy  and  total  silence. 

In  the  course  of  the  following  night,  Lisbeth  hearing  over- 
head some  preparations  for  suicide,  went  up  to  her  pensioner's 
room,  and  gave  him  the  schedule  and  a  formal  release. 

"  Here,  dear  child,  forgive  me,"  she  said  with  tears  in  her 
eyes.  **  Be  happy ;  leave  me  !  I  am  too  cruel  to  you ;  only 
tell  me  that  you  will  sometimes  remember  the  poor  girl  who 
has  enabled  you  to  make  a  living.  What  can  I  say  ?  you  are 
the  cause  of  my  ill-humor.  I  might  die ;  where  would  you  be 
without  me  ?  That  is  the  reason  of  my  being  impatient  to 
see  you  do  some  salable  work.  I  do  not  want  my  money 
back  for  myself,  I  assure  you  !  I  am  only  frightened  at  your 
idleness,  which  you  call  meditation;  at  your  ideas,  which 


78  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

take  up  so  many  hours  when  you  sit  gazing  at  the  sky ;  I  want 
you  to  get  into  habits  of  industry." 

All  this  was  said  with  an  emphasis,  a  look,  and  tears  that 
moved  the  high-minded  artist ;  he  clasped  his  benefactress  to 
his  heart  and  kissed  her  forehead. 

"  Keep  these  pieces,"  said  he  with  a  sort  of  cheerfulness. 
"  Why  should  you  send  me  to  Clichy?  Am  I  not  a  prisoner 
here  out  of  gratitude?" 

This  episode  of  their  secret  domestic  life  had  occurred  six 
months  previously,  and  had  led  to  Steinbock's  producing 
three  finished  works:  the  seal  in  Hortense's  possession,  the 
group  he  had  placed  with  the  curiosity  dealer,  and  a  beautiful 
clock  to  which  he  was  putting  the  final  touches,  screwing  in 
the  last  rivets. 

This  clock  represented  the  twelve  Hours,  charmingly  per- 
sonified by  twelve  female  figures  whirling  round  in  so  mad 
and  swift  a  dance  that  three  little  Loves  perched  on  a  pile  of 
fruit  and  flowers  could  not  stop  one  of  them ;  only  the  torn 
skirts  of  Midnight  remained  in  the  hand  of  the  most  daring 
cherub.  The  group  stood  on  an  admirably  treated  base,  orna- 
mented with  grotesque  beasts.  The  hours  were  told  by  a 
monstrous  mouth  that  opened  to  yawn,  and  each  Hour  bore 
some  ingeniously  appropriate  symbol  characteristic  of  the  vari- 
ous occupations  of  the  day. 

It  is  now  easy  to  understand  the  extraordinary  attachment 
of  Mademoiselle  Fischer  for  her  Livonian ;  she  wanted  him 
to  be  happy,  and  she  saw  him  pining,  fading  away  in  his  attic. 
The  causes  of  this  wretched  state  of  affairs  may  be  easily  im- 
agined. The  peasant  woman  watched  this  son  of  the  North 
with  the  affection  of  a  mother,  with  the  jealousy  of  a  wife,  and 
the  spirit  of  a  dragon  ;  hence  she  managed  to  put  every  kind 
of  folly  or  dissipation  out  of  his  power  by  leaving  him  destitute 
of  money.  She  longed  to  keep  her  victim  and  companion  for 
herself  alone,  well  conducted  perforce,  and  she  had  no  con- 
ception of  the  cruelty  of  this  senseless  wish,  since  she,  for  her 


COUSIN  BETTY.  79 

own  part,  was  accustomed  to  every  privation.  She  loved 
Steinbock  well  enough  not  to  marry  him,  and  too  much  to 
give  him  up  to  any  other  woman ;  she  could  not  resign  herself 
to  be  no  more  than  a  mother  to  him,  though  she  saw  that  she 
was  mad  to  think  of  playing  the  other  part. 

These  contradictions,  this  ferocious  jealousy,  and  the  joy  of 
having  a  man  to  herself,  all  agitated  her  old  maid's  heart 
beyond  measure.  Really  in  love,  as  she  had  been  for  four 
years,  she  cherished  the  foolish  hope  of  prolonging  this  im- 
possible and  aimless  way  of  life  in  which  her  persistence  would 
only  be  the  ruin  of  the  man  she  thought  of  as  her  child.  This 
contest  between  her  instincts  and  her  reason  made  her  unjust 
and  tyrannical.  She  wreaked  on  the  young  man  her  vengeance 
for  her  own  lot  in  being  neither  young,  rich,  nor  handsome ; 
then,  after  each  fit  of  rage,  recognizing  herself  wrong,  she 
stooped  to  unlimited  humility,  infinite  tenderness.  She  never 
could  sacrifice  to  her  idol  till  she  had  asserted  her  power  by 
blows  of  the  axe.  In  fact,  it  was  the  converse  of  Shakespeare's 
"Tempest  " — Caliban  ruling  Ariel  and  Prospero. 

As  to  the  poor  youth  himself,  high-minded,  meditative,  and 
inclined  to  be  lazy,  the  desert  that  his  protectress  made  in  his 
soul  might  be  seen  in  his  eyes,  as  in  those  of  a  caged  lion. 
The  penal  servitude  forced  on  him  by  Lisbeth  did  not  fulfill 
the  cravings  of  his  heart.  His  weariness  became  a  physical 
malady,  and  he  was  dying  without  daring  to  ask,  or  knowing 
where  to  procure,  the  price  of  some  little  necessary  dissipation. 
On  some  days  of  special  energy,  when  a  feeling  of  utter  ill- 
luck  added  to  his  exasperation,  he  would  look  at  Lisbeth  as  a 
thirsty  traveler  on  a  sandy  shore  must  look  at  the  bitter  sea- 
water. 

These  Dead  Sea  fruits  of  indigence,  and  this  isolation  in 
the  midst  of  Paris,  Lisbeth  relished  with  delight.  And,  beside, 
she  foresaw  that  the  first  passion  would  rob  her  of  her  slave. 
Sometimes  she  even  blamed  herself  because  her  own  tyranny 
and  reproaches  had  compelled  the  poetic  youth  to  become  so 


80  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

great  an  artist  of  delicate  work,  and  she  had  thus  given  him 
the  means  of  casting  her  off. 

On  the  day  after,  these  three  lives,  so  differently  but  so 
utterly  wretched — that  of  a  mother  in  despair,  that  of  the 
Marneffe  household,  and  that  of  the  unhappy  exile — were  all 
to  be  influenced  by  Hortense's  guileless  passion,  and  by  the 
strange  outcome  of  the  baron's  luckless  passion  for  Josepha. 

Just  as  Hulot  was  going  into  the  opera-house,  he  was  stopped 
by  the  darkened  appearance  of  the  building  and  of  the  Rue  le 
Peletier,  where  there  were  no  gendarmes,  no  lights,  no  theatre- 
servants,  no  barrier  to  regulate  the  crowd.  He  looked  up  at 
the  announcement-board,  and  beheld  a  strip  of  white  paper, 
on  which  was  printed  the  solemn  notice — 

"CLOSED   ON   ACCOUNT  OF   ILLNESS." 

He  rushed  off  to  Josepha's  lodgings  in  the  Rue  Chauchat  \ 
for,  like  all  the  singers,  she  lived  close  at  hand. 

"Whom  do  you  want,  sir?"  asked  the  porter,  to  the 
baron's  great  astonishment. 

"Have  you  forgotten  me?"  said  Hulot,  much  puzzled. 

"On  the  contrary,  sir,  it  is  because  I  have  the  honor  to 
remember  you  that  I  ask  you  :  Where  are  you  going?  " 

A  mortal  chill  fell  upon  the  baron. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  "  he  asked. 

"If  you  go  up  to  Mademoiselle  Mirah's  rooms,  Monsieur 
le  Baron,  you  will  find  Mademoiselle  H6lo7se  Brisetout  there — 
and  Monsieur  Bixiou,  Monsieur  L6on  de  Lora,  Monsieur  Lou- 
steau,  Monsieur  de  Vernisset,  Monsieur  Stidmann  ;  and  ladies 
smelling  of  patchouli — holding  a  housewarming." 

"Then,  where — where  is ?" 

"  Mademoiselle  Mirah?  I  don't  know  that  I  ought  to  tell 
you." 

The  baron  slipped  two  five-franc  pieces  into  the  porter's 
hand. 


COUSIN  BETTY.  81 

"  Well,  she  is  now  in  the  Rue  de  la  Ville  I'EvSque,  in  a 
fine  house,  given  to  her,  they  say,  by  the  Due  d'Herouville," 
replied  the  man  in  a  whisper. 

Having  ascertained  the  number  of  the  house,  Monsieur 
Hulot  called  a  milord  and  drove  to  one  of  those  pretty  modern 
houses  with  double  doors,  where  everything,  from  the  gaslight 
at  the  entrance,  proclaims  luxury. 

The  baron,  in  his  blue  cloth  coat,  white  neckcloth,  nankin 
trousers,  patent-leather  shoes,  and  stiffly  starched  shirt-frill, 
was  supposed  to  be  a  guest,  though  a  late  arrival,  by  the 
janitor  of  this  new  Eden.  His  alacrity  of  manner  and  quick 
step  justified  the  opinion. 

The  porter  rang  a  bell,  and  a  footman  appeared  in  the  hall. 
This  man,  as  new  as  the  house,  admitted  the  visitor,  who  said 
to  him  in  an  imperious  tone,  and  with  a  lordly  gesture — • 

"Take  in  this  card  to  Mademoiselle  Josepha." 

The  victim  mechanically  looked  round  the  room  in  which 
he  found  himself — an  anteroom  full  of  choice  flowers  and  of 
furniture  that  must  have  cost  twenty  thousand  francs.  The 
servant,  on  his  return,  begged  monsieur  to  wait  in  the  draw- 
ing-room till  the  company  came  to  their  coffee. 

Though  the  baron  had  been  familiar  with  imperial  luxury, 
which  was  undoubtedly  prodigious,  while  its  productions, 
though  not  durable  in  kind,  had  nevertheless  cost  enormous 
sums,  he  stood  dazzled,  dumfounded,  in  this  drawing-room 
with  three  windows  looking  out  on  a  garden  like  fairyland, 
one  of  those  gardens  that  are  created  in  a  month  with  a  made 
soil  and  transplanted  shrubs,  while  the  grass  seems  as  if  it 
must  be  made  to  grow  by  some  chemical  process.  He  ad- 
mired not  only  the  decoration,  the  gilding,  the  carving,  in 
the  most  expensive  Pompadour  style,  as  it  is  called,  and  the 
magnificent  brocades,  all  of  which  any  enriched  tradesman 
could  have  procured  for  money;  but  he  also  noted  such 
treasures  as  only  princes  can  select  and  find,  can  pay  for  and 
give  away:  two  pictures  by  Greuze,  two  by  Watteau,  two 
6 


82  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

heads  by  Vandyck,  two  landscapes  by  Ruysdael,  and  two  by 
le  Guaspre,  a  Rembrandt,  a  Holbein,  a  Murillo,  and  a  Titian, 
two  paintings  by  Teniers,  and  a  pair  by  Metzu,  a  Van  Huysum, 
and  an  Abraham  Mignon — in  short,  two  hundred  thousand 
francs'  worth  of  pictures  superbly  framed.  The  gilding  was 
worth  almost  as  much  as  the  paintings. 

*'Ah,  ha!  Now  you  understand,  my  good  man?"  said 
Josepha. 

She  had  stolen  in  on  tiptoe  through  a  noiseless  door,  over 
Persian  carpets,  and  came  upon  her  adorer,  standing  lost  in 
amazement — in  the  stupid  amazement  when  a  man's  ears 
tingle  so  soundly  that  he  hears  nothing  but  that  fatal  knell. 

The  words  "  my  good  man,"  spoken  to  an  official  of  such 
high  importance,  so  perfectly  exemplified  the  audacity  with 
which  these  creatures  pour  contempt  on  the  loftiest,  that  the 
baron  was  nailed  to  the  spot.  Josepha,  in  white  and  yellow, 
was  so  beautifully  dressed  for  the  banquet,  that  amid  all  this 
lavish  magnificence  she  still  shone  like  a  rarer  jewel. 

"Isn't  this  really  fine?"  said  she.  "The  duke  has  spent 
all  the  money  on  it  that  he  got  out  of  floating  a  company,  of 
which  the  sharjs  all  sold  at  a  premium.  He  is  no  fool,  is  my 
little  duke.  There  is  nothing  like  a  man  who  has  been  a 
grandee  in  his  time  for  turning  coals  into  gold.  Just  before 
dinner  the  notary  brought  me  the  title-deeds  to  sign  and  the 
bills  receipted  !  They  are  all  a  first-class  set  in  there — d'Es- 
grignon,  Rastignac,  Maxime,  Lenoncourt,  Verneuil,  Laginski, 
Rochefide,  la  Palferine,  and  from  among  the  bankers  Nucin- 
gen  and  du  Tillet,  with  Antonia,  Malaga,  Carabine,  and  la 
Schontz;  and  they  all  feel  for  you  deeply.  Yes,  old  boy, 
and  they  hope  you  will  join  them,  but  on  condition  that  you 
forthwith  drink  up  to  two  bottles  full  of  Hungarian  wine. 
Champagne,  or  Cape,  just  to  bring  you  up  to  their  mark. 
My  dear  fellow,  we  are  all  so  much  on  here,  that  it  was  neces- 
sary to  close  the  opera.  The  manager  is  as  drunk  as  a  cornet- 
a-pistons  ;  he  is  hiccoughing  already." 


COUSIN  BETTY.  83 

*'  Oh,  Josepha  ! "  cried  the  baron. 

"Now,  can  anything  be  more  absurd  than  explanations?" 
she  broke  in  with  a  smile.  "Look  here;  can  you  stand  six 
hundred  thousand  francs  which  this  house  and  furniture  have 
cost  ?  Can  you  give  me  a  bond  to  the  tune  of  thirty  thou- 
sand francs  a  year,  which  is  what  the  duke  has  just  given  me 
in  a  packet  of  common  sugared-almonds  from  tlie  grocer's — 
a  pretty  notion  that " 

"  What  an  atrocity  !  "  cried  Hulot,  who  in  his  fury  would 
have  given  his  wife's  diamonds  to  stand  in  the  Due  d'Herou- 
ville's  shoes  for  twenty-four  hours. 

"Atrocity  is  ray  trade,"  said  she.  "So  that  is  how  you 
take  it?  Well,  why  didn't  you  float  a  company?  Goodness 
me !  my  poor  dyed  Tom,  you  ought  to  be  grateful  to  me ;  I 
have  thrown  you  over  just  when  you  would  have  spent  on  me 
your  widow's  fortune,  your  daughter's  portion.  What,  tears! 
The  Empire  is  a  thing  of  the  past — I  hail  the  coming  Em- 
pire !  " 

She  struck  a  tragic  attitude,  and  declaimed — 

"  They  call  you  Hulot !     But,  I  know  you  not " 

And  she  went  into  the  other  room. 

Through  the  door,  left  ajar,  there  came,  like  a  lightning- 
flash,  a  streak  of  light  with  an  accompaniment  of  the  crescendo 
of  the  orgy  and  the  fragrance  of  a  banquet  of  the  choicest  de- 
scription. 

The  singer  peeped  through  the  partly  open  door,  and  seeing 
Hulot  transfixed  as  if  he  had  been  a  bronze  image,  she  came 
one  step  forward  into  the  room. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  she,  "  I  have  handed  over  the  rubbish  in 
the  Rue  Chauchat  to  Bixiou's  little  Heloi'se  Brisetout.  If  you 
wish  to  claim  your  cotton  nightcap,  your  bootjack,  your  cor- 
sets, and  your  wax  dye  for  your  mustache,  I  have  stipulated  for 
their  return." 

This  insolent  banter  made  the  baron  leave  the  room  as 


84  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

precipitately  as  Lot  departed  from  Gomorrah,  but  he  did  not 
look  back  like  Mrs.  Lot. 

Hulot  went  home,  striding  along  in  a  fury,  and  talking  to 
himself;  he  found  his  family  still  playing  the  game  of  whist  at 
two  sous  a  point,  at  which  he  had  left  them.  On  seeing  her 
husband  return,  poor  Adeline  imagined  something  dreadful, 
some  dishonor ;  she  gave  her  cards  to  Hortense,  and  led  Hec- 
tor away  into  the  very  room  where,  only  five  hours  since, 
Crevel  had  foretold  her  the  utmost  disgrace  of  poverty. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  she  said,  terrified. 

"Oh,  forgive  me — but  let  me  tell  you  all  these  horrors." 
And  for  ten  minutes  he  poured  out  his  wrath. 

"But,  my  dear,"  said  the  unhappy  woman,  with  heroic 
courage,  "these  creatures  do  not  know  what  love  means — 
such  pure  and  devoted  love  as  you  deserve.  How  could  you, 
so  clearsighted  as  you  are,  dream  of  competing  with  mil- 
lions?" 

"Dearest  Adeline!  "  cried  the  baron,  clasping  her  to  his 
heart. 

The  baroness'  words  had  shed  balm  on  the  bleeding  wounds 
to  his  vanity. 

"To  be  sure,  take  away  the  Due  d'Herouville's  fortune, 
and  she  could  not  hesitate  between  us  !  "  said  the  baron. 

"  My  dear,"  said  Adeline  with  a  final  effort,  "  if  you  posi- 
tively must  have  mistresses,  why  do  you  not  seek  them,  like 
Crevel,  among  women  who  are  less  extravagant,  and  of  a  class 
that  can  for  a  time  be  content  with  little  ?  We  should  all  gain 
by  that  arrangement.  I  understand  your  need — but  I  do  not 
understand  that  vanity " 

"Oh,  what  a  kind  and  perfect  wife  you  are!  "  cried  he. 
"  I  am  an  old  fool,  I  do  not  deserve  to  have  such  a  wife  !  " 

"I  am  simply  the  Josephine  of  my  Napoleon,"  she  replied, 
with  a  touch  of  melancholy. 

"Josephine  was  not  to  compare  with  you!"  said  he. 
"  Come ;  I  will  play  a  game  of  whist  with  my  brother  and 


COUSIN  BETTY.  85 

the  children.  I  must  try  my  hand  at  the  business  of  a  family 
man ;  I  must  get  Hortense  a  husband,  and  bury  the  liber- 
tine." 

His  frankness  so  greatly  touched  poor  Adeline  that  she 
said: 

*'  The  creature  has  no  taste  to  prefer  any  man  in  the  world 
to  my  Hector.  Oh,  I  would  not  give  you  up  for  all  the  gold 
on  earth.  How  can  any  woman  throw  you  over  who  is  so 
happy  as  to  be  loved  by  you  ?  ' ' 

The  look  with  which  the  baron  rewarded  his  wife's  fanati- 
cism confirmed  her  in  her  opinion  that  gentleness  and  docility 
were  a  woman's  strongest  weapons. 

But  in  this  she  was  mistaken.  The  noblest  sentiments, 
carried  to  an  excess,  can  produce  mischief  as  great  as  do  the 
worst  vices,  Bonaparte  was  made  Emperor  for  having  fired 
on  the  people,  at  a  stone's  throw  from  the  spot  where  Louis 
XVI.  lost  his  throne  and  his  head  because  he  would  not  shed 
the  blood  of  a  certain  Monsieur  Sauce. 

On  the  following  morning,  Hortense,  who  had  slept  with 
the  seal  under  her  pillow,  so  as  to  have  it  close  to  her  all 
night,  dressed  very  early,  and  sent  to  beg  her  father  to  join 
her  in  the  garden  as  soon  as  he  should  be  down. 

By  about  half-past  nine,  the  father,  acceding  to  his  daugh- 
ter's petition,  gave  her  his  arm  for  a  walk,  and  they  went 
along  the  quays  by  the  Pont  Royal  to  the  Place  du  Car- 
rousel. 

*'  Let  us  look  into  the  store  windows,  papa,"  said  Hortense, 
as  they  went  through  the  little  gate  to  cross  the  wide  square. 

"What — here?"  said  her  father,  laughing  at  her. 

"  We  are  supposed  to  have  come  to  see  the  pictures,  and 
over  there" — and  she  pointed  to  the  stalls  in  front  of  the 
houses  at  a  right  angle  to  the  Rue  du  Doyenne — *'  look !  there 
are  dealers  in  curiosities  and  pictures " 

"  Your  cousin  lives  there." 


86  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

"  I  know  it ;  but  she  must  not  see  us." 

"And  what  do  you  want  to  do?"  said  the  baron,  who, 
finding  himself  within  thirty  yards  of  Madame  Marneffe's 
windows,  suddenly  remembered  her. 

Hortense  had  dragged  her  father  in  front  of  one  of  the 
stores  forming  the  angle  of  a  block  of  houses  built  along  the 
front  of  the  Old  Louvre,  and  facing  the  Hotel  de  Nantes. 
She  went  into  this  store ;  her  father  stood  outside,  absorbed 
in  gazing  at  the  windows  of  the  pretty  little  lady,  who,  the 
evening  before,  had  left  her  image  stamped  on  the  old  beau's 
heart,  as  if  to  alleviate  the  wound  he  was  so  soon  to  receive ; 
and  he  could  not  help  putting  his  wife's  sage  advice  into 
practice. 

**  I  will  fall  back  on  a  simple  little  citizen's  wife,"  said  he  to 
himself,  recalling  Madame  Marneffe's  adorable  graces.  "  Such 
a  woman  as  that  will  soon  make  me  forget  that  grasping 
Josepha." 

Now,  this  was  what  was  happening  at  the  same  moment 
outside  and  inside  the  curiosity  store. 

As  he  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  windows  of  his  new  fancy,  the 
baron  saw  the  husband,  who,  while  brushing  his  coat  with  his 
own  hands,  was  apparently  on  the  lookout,  expecting  to  see 
some  one  on  the  square.  Fearing  lest  he  should  be  seen,  and 
subsequently  recognized,  the  amorous  baron  turned  his  back 
on  the  Rue  du  Doyenne,  or  rather  stood  at  three-quarters' 
face,  as  it  were,  so  as  to  be  able  to  glance  round  from  time  to 
time.  This  manoeuvre  brought  him  face  to  face  with  Madame 
Marneffe,  who,  coming  up  from  the  quay,  was  doubling  the 
promontory  of  houses  to  go  home. 

Valerie  was  evidently  startled  as  she  met  the  baron's  aston- 
ished eye,  and  she  responded  with  a  prudish  dropping  of  her 
eyelids. 

"A  pretty  woman,"  exclaimed  he,  "  for  whom  a  man  would 
do  many  foolish  things." 

"Indeed,  monsieur?"  said  she,  turning  suddenly,  like  a 


COUSIN  BETTY.  87 

woman  who  has  just  come  to  some  vehement  decision,  "  you 
are  Monsieur  le  Baron  Hulot,  I  believe?" 

The  baron,  more  and  more  bewildered,  bowed  assent. 

"  Then,  as  chance  has  twice  made  our  eyes  meet,  and  I  am 
so  fortunate  as  to  have  interested  or  puzzled  you,  I  may  tell 
you  that,  instead  of  doing  anything  foolish,  you  ought  to  dp 
justice.     My  husband's  fate  rests  with  you." 

"And  how  may  that  be?"  asked  the  gallant  baron. 

"  He  is  employed  in  your  department  in  the  War  Office, 
under  Monsieur  Lebrun,  in  Monsieur  Coquet's  room,"  said 
she,  with  a  smile. 

"I  am  quite  disposed,  Madame — Madame ?" 

"Madame  Marneffe." 

"  Dear  little  Madame  Marneffe,  to  do  injustice  for  your 
sake.  I  have  a  cousin  living  in  your  house ;  I  will  go  to  see 
her  one  day  soon — as  soon  as  possible ;  bring  your  petition  to 
me  in  her  rooms." 

*'  Pardon  my  boldness,  Monsieur  le  Baron  ;  you  must  under- 
stand that  if  I  dare  to  address  you  thus,  it  is  because  I  have 
no  friend  to  protect  me " 

"Ah,  ha!" 

"Monsieur,  you  misunderstand  me,"  said  she,  lowering  her 
eyelids. 

Hulot  felt  as  if  the  sun  had  disappeared. 

"I  am  at  my  wits'  end,  but  I  am  an  honest  woman  !  "  she 
went  on.  "About  six  months  ago  my  only  protector  died, 
Marshal  Montcornet " 

"'Ah!     You  are  his  daughter?" 

"Yes,  monsieur;  but  he  never  acknowledged  me." 

"  That  was  that  he  might  leave  you  part  of  his  fortune." 

"  He  left  me  nothing ;  he  made  no  will." 

"  Indeed  !  Poor  little  woman  !  The  marshal  died  suddenly 
of  apoplexy.  But,  come,  madame,  hope  for  the  best.  The 
State  "must  do  something  for  the  daughter  of  one  of  the 
Chevalier  Bayards  of  the  Empire." 


88  THE  POOR   PARENTS. 

Madame  Marneffe  bowed  gracefully  and  went  off,  as  proud 
of  her  success  as  the  baron  was  of  his. 

"Where  the  devil  has  she  been  so  early?"  thought  he, 
watching  the  flow  of  her  skirts,  to  which  she  contrived  to  im- 
part a  somewhat  exaggerated  grace.  "  She  looks  too  tired  to 
have  just  come  from  a  bath,  and  her  husband  is  waiting  for 
her.     It  is  strange,  and  puzzles  me  altogether." 

Madame  Marneffe  having  vanished  within,  the  baron 
wondered  what  his  daughter  was  doing  in  the  store.  As  he 
went  in,  still  staring  at  Madame  Marneffe's  windows,  he  ran 
against  a  young  man  with  a  pale  brow  and  sparkling  gray  eyes, 
wearing  a  summer  coat  of  black  merino,  coarse  drill  trousers, 
and  tan  shoes,  with  gaiters,  rushing  away  headlong;  he  saw 
him  run  to  the  house  in  the  Rue  du  Doyenne,  into  which  he 
went. 

Hortense,  on  going  into  the  store,  had  at  once  recognized 
the  famous  group,  conspicuously  placed  on  a  table  in  the 
middle  and  in  front  of  the  door.  Even  without  the  circum- 
stances to  which  she  owed  her  knovvledge  of  this  masterpiece, 
it  would  probably  have  struck  her  by  the  peculiar  power  which 
we  must  call  the  brio — the  go — of  great  works ;  and  the  girl 
herself  might  in  Italy  have  been  taken  as  a  model  for  the  per- 
sonification of  il  Brio. 

Not  every  work  by  a  man  of  genius  has  in  the  same  degree 
that  brilliancy,  that  glory  which  is  at  once  patent  even  to  the 
most  ignorant  beholder.  Thus,  certain  pictures  by  Raphael, 
such  as  the  famous  Transfiguration,  the  Madonna  di  Foligno, 
and  the  frescoes  of  the  Stanze  in  the  Vatican,  do  not  at  first 
captivate  our  admiration,  as  do  the  Violin-player  in  the  Sciarra 
Palace,  the  portraits  of  the  Doria  family,  and  the  Vision  of 
Ezekiel*  in  the  Pitti  Gallery,  the  Christ  bearing  His  Cross  in 
the  Borghese  collection,  and  the  Marriage  of  the  Virgin  in  the 
Br6ra  at  Milan.  The  Saint  John  the  Baptist  of  the  Tribuna, 
and  Saint  Luke  painting  the  Virgin's  portrait,  in  the  Accade- 
*  It  is  very  doubtful  if  this  contains  any  of  Raphael's  work. 


COUSIN  BETTY.  89 

mia  at  Rome,  have  not  the  charm  of  the  Portrait  of  Leo  X. 
and  of  the  Virgin  at  Dresden. 

And  yet  they  are  all  of  equal  merit.  Nay,  more.  The 
Stanze,  the  Transfiguration,  the  panels,  and  the  three  easel 
pictures  in  the  Vatican  are  in  the  highest  degree  perfect  and 
sublime.  But  they  demand  a  stress  of  attention,  even  from 
the  most  accomplished  beholder,  and  serious  study,  to  be  fully 
understood  ;  while  the  Violin-player,  the  Marriage  of  the  Vir- 
gin, and  the  Vision  of  Ezekiel  go  straight  to  the  heart  through 
the  portal  of  sight,  and  make  their  home  there.  It  is  a  plea- 
sure to  receive  them  thus  without  an  eflFort ;  if  it  is  not  the 
highest  phase  of  art,  it  is  the  happiest.  This  fact  proves  that, 
in  the  begetting  of  works  of  art,  there  is  as  much  chance  in 
the  character  of  the  offspring  as  there  is  in  a  family  of  chil- 
dren ;  that  some  will  be  happily  graced,  born  beautiful,  and 
costing  their  mothers  little  suffering,  creatures  on  whom  every- 
thing smiles,  and  with  whom  everything  succeeds ;  in  short, 
genius,  like  love,  has  its  fairer  blossoms. 

This  brio,  an  untranslatable  Italian  word  which  the  French 
have  begun  to  use,  is  characteristic  of  youthful  work.  It  is 
the  fruit  of  the  impetus  and  fire  of  early  talent — an  impetus 
which  is  met  with  again  later  in  some  happy  hours ;  but  this 
particular  brio  no  longer  comes  from  the  artist's  heart ;  in- 
stead of  his  flinging  it  into  his  work  as  a  volcano  flings  up  its 
fires,  it  comes  to  him  from  outside,  inspired  by  circumstances, 
by  love,  or  rivalry,  often  by  hatred,  and  more  often  still  by 
the  imperious  need  of  glory  to  be  lived  up  to. 

This  group  by  Wenceslas  was  to  his  later  works  what  the 
Marriage  of  the  Virgin  is  to  the  great  mass  of  Raphael's,  the 
first  step  of  a  gifted  artist  taken  with  the  inimitable  grace,  the 
eagerness,  and  delightful  overflowingness  of  a  child,  whose 
strength  is  concealed  under  the  pink-and-white  flesh  full  of 
dimples  which  seem  to  echo  in  a  mother's  laughter.  Prince 
Eugene  is  said  to  have  paid  four  hundred  thousand  francs  for 
this  picture,  which  would  be  worth  a  million  to  any  nation 


90  THE   POOR  PARENTS. 

that  owned  no  picture  by  Raphael,  but  no  one  would  give 
that  sum  for  the  finest  of  the  frescoes,  though  their  value  is 
far  greater  as  works  of  art. 

Hortense  restrained  her  admiration,  for  she  reflected  on 
the  amount  of  her  girlish  savings ;  she  assumed  an  air  of  in- 
difference, and  said  to  the  dealer — 

"  What  is  the  price  of  that  ?  " 

"Fifteen  hundred  francs,"  replied  the  man,  sending  a 
glance  of  intelligence  to  a  young  man  seated  on  a  stool  in  the 
corner. 

The  young  man  himself  gazed  in  a  stupefaction  at  Monsieur 
Hulot's  living  masterpiece.  Hortense,  forewarned,  at  once 
identified  him  as  the  artist,  from  the  color  that  flushed  a  face 
pale  with  endurance ;  she  saw  the  spark  lighted  up  in  his 
gray  eyes  by  her  question ;  she  looked  on  the  thin,  drawn 
features,  like  those  of  a  monk  consumed  by  asceticism  ;  she 
adored  the  red,  well-formed  mouth,  the  delicate  chin,  and  the 
Pole's  silky  chestnut  hair,  worn  in  locks  after  the  style  of  the 
Slavs. 

"If  it  were  twelve  hundred,"  said  she,  "  I  would  beg  you 
to  send  it  to  me." 

"  It  is  antique,  mademoiselle,"  the  dealer  remarked,  think- 
ing, like  all  his  fraternity,  that,  having  uttered  this  ne  plus 
ultra  of  bric-a-brac,  there  was  no  more  to  be  said. 

"  Excuse  me,  monsieur,"  she  replied  very  quietly,  "  it  was 
made  this  year ;  I  came  expressly  to  beg  you,  if  my  price  is 
accepted,  to  send  the  artist  to  see  us,  as  it  might  be  possible 
to  procure  him  some  important  commissions." 

"  And  if  he  is  to  have  the  twelve  hundred  francs,  what  am 
I  to  get  ?  I  am  the  dealer,"  said  the  man,  with  candid  good- 
humor. 

"To  be  sure!"  replied  the  girl,  with  a  slight  curl  of 
disdain. 

"Oh!  mademoiselle,  take  it;  I  will  make  terms  with  the 
dealer,"  cried  the  Livonian,  beside  himself. 


COUSIN  BETTY.  91 

Fascinated  by  Hortense's  wonderful  beauty  and  the  love  of 
art  she  displayed,  he  added — 

"  I  am  the  sculptor  of  the  group,  and  for  ten  days  I  have 
come  here  three  times  a  day  to  see  if  anybody  would  recog- 
nize its  merit  and  bargain  for  it.  You  are  my  first  admirer — 
take  it!" 

'^  Come,  then,  monsieur,  with  the  dealer,  an  hour  hence. 
Here  is  my  father's  card,"  replied  Hortense. 

Then,  seeing  the  storekeeper  go  into  a  back  room  to  wrap 
the  group  in  a  piece  of  linen  rag,  she  added  in  a  low  voice, 
to  the  great  astonishment  of  the  artist,  who  thought  he  must 
be  dreaming — 

"  For  the  benefit  of  your  future  prospects.  Monsieur  Wen- 
ceslas,  do  not  mention  the  name  of  the  purchaser  to  Made- 
moiselle Fischer,  for  she  is  our  cousin." 

The  word  cousin  dazzled  the  artist's  mind ;  he  had  a 
glimpse  of  Paradise  whence  this  daughter  of  Eve  had  come 
to  him.  He  had  dreamed  of  the  beautiful  girl  of  whom  Lis- 
beth  had  told  him,  as  Hortense  had  dreamed  of  her  cousin's 
lover ;  and,  as  she  had  entered  the  store  : 

"  Ah  !  "  thought  he,  "  if  she  could  but  be  like  this  !  " 

The  look  that  passed  between  the  lovers  may  be  imagined ; 
it  was  a  flame,  for  virtuous  love  has  no  hypocrisy. 

"Well,  what  the  deuce  are  you  doing  here?"  her  father 
asked  her. 

"  I  have  been  spending  twelve  hundred  francs  that  I  had 
saved.     Come."     And  she  took  her  father's  arm. 

"Twelve  hundred  francs?"  he  repeated. 

"  To  be  exact,  thirteen  hundred ;  you  will  lend  me  the  odd 
hundred?" 

"And  on  what,  in  such  a  place,  could  you  spend  so 
much?" 

"  Ah  !  that  is  the  question  !  "  replied  the  happy  girl.  "  If 
I  have  got  a  husband,  he  is  not  dear  at  the  money." 

**  A  husband  !     In  that  store,  my  child  ?  " 


92  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

"  Listen,  dear  little  father  \  would  you  forbid  my  marrying 
a  great  artist?  " 

"  No,  my  dear.  A  great  artist  in  these  days  is  a  prince 
without  a  title — he  has  glory  and  fortune,  the  two  chief  social 
advantages — next  to  virtue,"  he  added,  in  a  smug  tone. 

"Oh,  of  course  !  "  said  Hortense.  "And  what  do  you 
think  of  sculpture  ?  " 

"It  is  a  very  poor  business,"  replied  Hulot,  shaking  his 
head.  "  It  needs  high  patronage  as  well  as  great  talent,  for 
Government  is  the  only  purchaser.  It  is  an  art  with  no 
demand  nowadays,  where  there  are  no  princely  houses,  no 
great  fortunes,  no  hereditary  mansions,  no  entailed  estates. 
Only  small  pictures  and  small  figures  can  find  a  place ;  the 
arts  are  endangered  by  this  need  of  small  things." 

"But  if  a  great  artist  could  find  a  demand?"  said 
Hortense. 

"That  indeed  would  solve  the  problem." 

"  Or  had  some  one  to  back  him  ?  " 

"That  would  be  even  better." 

"If  he  were  of  noble  birth?  " 

"Pooh!" 

"A  count?" 

"And  a  sculptor?" 

"  He  has  no  money." 

"And  so  he  counts  on  that  of  Mademoiselle  Hortense 
Hulot?"  said  the  baron  ironically,  with  an  inquisitorial  look 
into  his  daughter's  eyes. 

"This  great  artist,  a  count  and  a  sculptor,  has  just  seen 
your  daughter  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  and  for  the  space 
of  five  minutes,  Monsieur  le  Baron,"  Hortense  calmly  replied. 
"Yesterday,  you  must  know,  dear  little  father,  while  you 
were  at  the  Chamber,  mamma  had  a  fainting  fit.  This,  which 
she  ascribed  to  a  nervous  attack,  was  the  result  of  some  worry 
that  had  to  do  with  the  failure  of  my  marriage,  for  she  told 
me  that  to  get  rid  of  me " 


COUSIN  BETTY.  93 

**  She  is  too  fond  of  you  to  have  used  an  expression " 

"So  unparliamentary!"  Hortense  put  in  with  a  laugh. 
"  No,  she  did  not  use  those  words ;  but  I  know  that  a  girl 
old  enough  to  marry  and  v;ho  does  not  find  a  husband  is  a 
heavy  cross  for  respectable  parents  to  bear.  Well,  she  thinks 
that  if  a  man  of  energy  and  talent  could  be  found,  who  would 
be  satisfied  with  thirty  thousand  francs  for  my  marriage  por- 
tion, we  might  all  be  happy.  In  fact,  she  thought  it  advisable 
to  prepare  me  for  the  modesty  of  my  future  lot,  and  to  hinder 
me  from  indulging  in  too  fervid  dreams.  Which  evidently 
meant  an  end  to  the  intended  marriage,  jnd  no  settlements 
for  me!" 

"  Your  mother  is  a  very  good  woman,  noble,  admirable  !  " 
replied  the  father,  deeply  humiliated,  though  not  sorry  to 
hear  this  confession. 

"  She  told  me  yesterday  that  she  had  your  permission  to 
sell  her  diamonds  so  as  to  give  me  something  to  marry  on ; 
but  I  should  like  her  to  keep  her  jewels,  and  to  find  a  husband 
myself.  I  think  I  have  found  the  man,  the  possible  husband, 
answering  to  mamma's  prospectus " 

"There? — in  the  Place  du  Carrousel? — and  in  one  morn- 
ing?" 

"Oh,  papa,  the  mischief  lies  deeper !  "  said  she  archly. 

"  Well,  come,  my  child,  tell  the  whole  story  to  your  good  old 
father,"  said  he  persuasively,  and  concealing  his  uneasiness. 

Under  promise  of  absolute  secrecy,  Hortense  repeated  the 
upshot  of  her  various  conversations  with  her  Cousin  Betty. 
Then,  when  they  got  home,  she  showed  the  much-talked-of 
seal  to  her  father  in  evidence  of  the  sagacity  of  her  views. 
The  father,  in  the  depth  of  his  heart,  wondered  at  the  skill 
and  acumen  of  girls  who  act  on  instinct,  discerning  the  sim- 
plicity of  the  scheme  which  her  idolized  love  had  suggested 
in  the  course  of  a  single  night  to  his  guileless  daughter. 

•'  You  will  see  the  masterpiece  I  have  just  bought ;  it  is  to 
be  brought  home,  and  that  dear  Wenceslas  is  to  come  with 


94  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

the  dealer.  The  man  who  made  that  group  ought  to  make  a 
fortune;  only  use  your  influence  to  get  him  an  order  for  a 
statue,  and  rooms  at  the  Institute " 

*'  How  you  run  on  !  "  cried  her  father,  "  Why,  if  you  had 
your  own  way,  you  would  be  man  and  wife  within  the  legal 
period — in  eleven  days " 

"  Must  we  wait  so  long?"  said  she,  laughing.  "  But  I  fell 
in  love  with  him  in  five  minutes,  as  you  fell  in  love  with 
mamma  at  first  sight.  And  he  loves  me  as  if  we  had  known 
each  other  for  two  years.  Yes,"  she  said  in  reply  to  her 
father's  look,  "I  read  ten  volumes  of  love  in  his  eyes.  And 
will  not  you  and  mamma  accept  him  as  my  husband  when  you 
see  that  he  is  a  man  of  genius  ?  Sculpture  is  the  greatest  of 
the  Arts,"  she  cried,  clapping  her  hands  and  jumping.  "I 
will  tell  you  everything " 

"  What,  is  there  more  to  come  ?  "  asked  her  father,  smiling. 

The  child's  complete  and  effervescent  innocence  had  re- 
stored her  father's  peace  of  mind. 

"A  confession  of  the  first  importance,"  said  she.  **I 
loved  him  without  knowing  him  ;  and,  for  the  last  hour,  since 
seeing  him,  I  am  crazy  about  him." 

"  A  little  too  crazy  !  "  said  the  baron,  who  was  enjoying  the 
sight  of  this  guileless  passion. 

"Do  not  punish  me  for  confiding  in  you,"  replied  she. 
"  It  is  so  delightful  to  say  to  my  father's  heart,  *I  love  him  ! 
I  am  so  happy  in  loving  him  ! '  You  will  see  my  Wenceslas  ! 
His  brow  is  so  sad  !  The  sun  of  genius  shines  in  his  gray 
eyes — and  what  an  air  he  has  !  What  do  you  think  of  Livonia? 
Is  it  a  fine  country?  The  idea  of  Cousin  Betty's  marrying 
that  young  fellow !  She  might  be  his  mother.  It  would  be 
murder !  I  am  quite  jealous  of  all  she  has  ever  done  for  him. 
But  I  don't  think  my  marriage  will  please  her." 

"  See,  my  darling,  we  must  hide  nothing  whatever  from  your 
mother." 

"  I  should  have  to  show  her  the  seal,  and  I  promised  not  to 


COUSIN  BETTY.  95 

betray  Cousin  Lisbeth,  who  is  afraid,  she  says,  of  mamma's 
laughing  at  her,"  said  Hortense. 

"  You  have  scruples  about  the  seal,  and  none  about  robbing 
your  cousin  of  her  lover?" 

"  I  promised  about  the  seal — I  made  no  promises  about  the 
sculptor," 

This  adventure,  patriarchal  in  its  simplicity,  came  admirably 
a  propos  to  the  unconfessed  poverty  of  the  family;  the  baron, 
while  praising  his  daughter  for  her  candor,  explained  to  her 
that  she  must  now  leave  matters  to  the  absolute  discretion  of  her 
parents. 

"  You  understand,  my  child,  that  it  is  not  your  part  to 
ascertain  whether  your  cousin's  lover  is  a  count,  if  he  has  all 
his  papers  properly  certified,  and  if  his  conduct  is  a  guarantee 
for  his  respectability.  As  for  your  cousin,  she  refused  five 
offers  when  she  was  twenty  years  younger;  that  will  prove  no 
obstacle,  I  undertake  to  say." 

"Listen  to  me,  papa;  if  you  really  wish  to  see  me  married, 
never  say  a  word  to  Lisbeth  about  it  till  just  before  the  con- 
tract is  signed.  I  have  been  catechising  her  about  this  busi- 
ness for  the  last  six  months  !  Well,  there  is  something  about 
her  quite  inexplicable " 

"What?"  said  her  father,  puzzled. 

"  Well,  she  looks  evil  when  I  say  too  much,  even  in  joke, 
about  her  lover.  Make  inquiries,  but  leave  me  to  row  my 
own  boat.     My  confidence  ought  to  reassure  you." 

"The  Lord  said,  'Suffer  little  children  to  come  unto  Me.' 
You  are  one  of  those  who  have  come  back  again,"  replied  the 
baron  with  a  touch  of  irony. 

After  breakfast  the  dealer  was  announced,  and  the  artist 
with  his  group.  The  sudden  flush  that  reddened  her  daugh- 
ter's face  at  once  made  the  baroness  suspicious  and  then 
watchful,  and  the  girl's  confusion  and  the  light  in  her  eyes 
soon  betrayed  the  mystery  so  badly  guarded  in  her  simple 
heart. 


96  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

Count  Steinbock,  dressed  in  black,  struck  the  baron  as  a 
very  gentlemanly  young  man. 

"  Would  you  undertake  a  bronze  statue?"  he  asked,  as  he 
held  up  the  group. 

After  admiring  it  on  trust,  he  passed  it  on  to  his  wife,  who 
knew  nothing  about  sculpture. 

"It  is  beautiful,  isn't  it,  mamma?"  said  Hortense  in  her 
mother's  ear. 

"  A  statue  !  Monsieur,  it  is  less  difficult  to  execute  a  statue 
than  to  make  a  clock  like  this,  which  my  friend  here  has  been 
kind  enough  to  bring,"  said  the  artist  in  reply. 

The  dealer  was  placing  on  the  dining-room  sideboard  the 
wax  model  of  the  twelve  Hours  that  the  Loves  were  trying  to 
delay. 

"  Leave  the  clock  with  me,"  said  the  baron,  astounded  at 
the  beauty  of  the  sketch.  "  I  should  like  to  show  it  to  the 
ministers  of  the  interior  and  of  commerce." 

"  Who  is  the  young  man  in  whom  you  take  so  much  in- 
terest !  "  the  baroness  asked  her  daughter. 

"An  artist  who  could  afford  to  execute  this  model  could 
get  a  hundred  thousand  francs  for  it,"  said  the  curiosity 
dealer,  putting  on  a  knowing  and  mysterious  look  as  he  saw 
that  the  artist  and  the  girl  were  interchanging  glances.  "  He 
would  only  need  to  sell  twenty  copies  at  eight  thousand  francs 
each — for  the  materials  would  cost  about  a  thousand  crowns 
for  each  example.  But  if  each  copy  were  numbered  and  the 
mould  destroyed,  it  would  certainly  be  possible  to  meet  with 
twenty  amateurs  only  too  glad  to  possess  a  replica  of  such  a 
work." 

"A  hundred  thousand  francs!"  cried  Steinbock,  looking 
from  the  dealer  to  Hortense,  the  baron,  and  the  baroness. 

"Yes,  a  hundred  thousand  francs,"  repeated  the  dealer. 
**If  I  were  rich  enough,  I  would  buy  it  of  you  myself  for 
twenty  thousand  francs ;  for  by  destroying  the  mould  it  would 
become  a  valuable  property.     But  one  of  the  princes  ought  to 


COUSIN  BETTY.  9J 

pay  thirty  or  forty  thousand  francs  for  such  a  work  to  orna- 
ment his  drawing-room.  No  man  has  ever  succeeded  in 
making  a  clock  satisfactory  alike  to  the  vulgar  and  to  the 
connoisseur,  and  this  one,  sir,  solves  the  difficulty." 

"This  is  for  yourself,  monsieur,"  said  Hortense,  giving  six 
gold-pieces  to  the  dealer. 

"Never  breathe  a  word  of  this  visit  to  anyone  living," 
said  the  artist  to  his  friend,  at  the  door.  "If  you  should  be 
asked  where  we  sold  the  group,  mention  the  Due  d'Herou- 
ville,  the  famous  collector  in  the  Rue  de  Varenne." 

The  dealer  nodded  assent. 

"  And  your  name  ?  "  said  Hulot  to  the  artist  when  he  came 
back. 

"  Count  Steinbock." 

"  Have  you  the  papers  that  prove  your  identity?  " 

"Yes,  Monsieur  le  Baron.  They  are  in  Russian  and  in 
German,  but  not  legalized." 

"Do  you  feel  equal  to  undertaking  a  statue  nine  feet 
high?" 

"Yes,  monsieur." 

"  Well,  then,  if  the  persons  whom  I  shall  consult  are  satis- 
fied with  your  work,  I  can  secure  you  the  commission  for  the 
statue  of  Marshal  Montcornet,*  which  is  to  be  erected  on  his 
monument  at  Pere-Lachaise.  The  minister  of  war  and  the 
old  officers  of  the  Imperial  Guard  have  subscribed  a  sum  large 
enough  to  enable  us  to  select  our  artist." 

"Oh!  monsieur,  it  will  make  my  fortune!"  exclaimed 
Steinbock,  overpowered  by  so  much  happiness  at  once. 

"Be  easy,"  replied  the  baron  graciously.  "If  the  two 
ministers  to  whom  I  propose  to  show  your  group  and  this 
sketch  in  wax  are  delighted  with  these  two  pieces,  your  pros- 
pects of  a  fortune  are  good." 

Hortense  hugged  her  father's  arm  so  tightly  as  to  hurt 
him. 

*  See  "The  Peasantry." 
7 


98  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

"  Bring  me  your  papers,  and  say  nothing  of  your  hopes  to 
anybody,  not  even  to  our  old  Cousin  Betty." 

"  Lisbeth  ?  "  said  Madame  Hulot,  at  last  understanding  the 
end  of  all  this,  though  unable  to  guess  the  means. 

"I  could  give  proof  of  my  skill  by  making  a  bust  of  the 
baroness,"  added  Wenceslas. 

The  artist,  struck  by  Madame  Hulot's  beauty,  was  compar- 
ing the  mother  and  daughter. 

"Indeed,  monsieur,  life  may  smile  upon  you,"  said  the 
baron,  quite  charmed  by  Count  Steinbock's  refined  and  ele- 
gant manner.  *'  You  will  find  out  that  in  Paris  no  man  is 
clever  for  nothing,  and  that  persevering  toil  always  finds  its 
reward  here." 

Hortense,  with  a  blush,  held  out  to  the  young  man  a  pretty 
Algerine  purse  containing  sixty  gold-pieces.  The  artist,  with 
something  still  of  a  gentleman's  pride,  responded  with  a 
mounting  color  easy  enough  to  interpret. 

**  This,  perhaps,  is  the  first  money  your  works  have  brought 
you?"  said  Adeline. 

**  Yes,  madame — my  works  of  art.  It  is  not  the  first-fruits 
of  my  labor,  for  I  have  been  a  workman." 

"Well,  we  must  hope  my  daughter's  money  will  bring  you 
good-luck,"  said  she. 

"And  take  it  without  scruple,"  added  the  baron,  seeing 
that  Wenceslas  held  the  purse  in  his  hand  instead  of  pocket- 
ing it.  "The  sum  will  be  repaid  by  some  rich  man,  a 
prince  perhaps,  who  will  offer  it  with  interest  to  possess  so 
fine  a  work." 

"Oh,  I  want  it  too  much  myself,  papa,  to  give  it  up  to 
anybody  in  the  world,  even  a  royal  prince  !  " 

"  I  can  make  a  far  prettier  thing  than  that  for  you,  made- 
moiselle." 

"But  it  would  not  be  this  one,"  replied  she;  and  then, 
as  if  ashamed  of  having  said  too  much,  she  ran  out  into  the 
garden. 


COUSIN  BETTY.  99 

**  Then  I  shall  break  the  mould  and  the  model  as  soon  as  I 
get  home,"  said  Steinbeck. 

"Fetch  me  your  papers,  and  you  will  hear  of  me  before 
long,  if  you  are  equal  to  what  I  expect  of  you,  monsieur," 
put  in  the  baron. 

The  artist  on  this  could  but  take  leave.  After  bowing  to 
Madame  Hulot  and  Hortense,  who  came  in  from  the  garden 
on  purpose,  he  went  off  to  walk  in  the  Tuileries,  not  bearing 
— not  daring — to  return  to  his  attic,  where  his  tyrant  would 
pelt  him  with  questions  and  wring  his  secret  from  him. 

Hortense's  adorer  conceived  of  groups  and  statues  by  the 
hundred ;  he  felt  strong  enough  to  hew  the  marble  himself, 
like  Canova,  who  was  also  a  feeble  man,  and  nearly  died  of 
it.  He  was  transfigured  by  Hortense,  who  was  to  him  inspira- 
tion made  visible. 

"Now  then,"  said  the  baroness  to  her  daughter,  "what 
does  all  this  mean  ?  " 

"Well,  dear  mamma,  you  have  just  seen  Cousin  Lisbeth's 
lover,  who  now,  I  hope,  is  mine.  But  shut  your  eyes,  know 
nothing.  Good  heavens !  I  was  to  keep  it  all  from  you,  and 
I  cannot  help  telling  you  everything " 

"  Good-by,  children  !  "  said  the  baron,  kissing  his  wife  and 
daughter ;  "  I  shall  perhaps  go  to  call  on  the  Nanny,  and  from 
her  I  shall  hear  a  great  deal  about  our  young  man." 

"  Papa,  be  cautious  !  "  said  Hortense. 

"  Oh  !  little  girl !  "  cried  the  baroness  when  Hortense  had 
poured  out  her  poem,  of  which  the  morning's  adventure  was 
the  last  canto,  "  dear  little  girl,  Artlessness  will  always  be  the 
artfullest  puss  on  earth  ! ' ' 

Genuine  passions  have  an  unerring  instinct.  Set  a  greedy 
man  before  a  dish  of  fruit  and  he  will  make  no  mistake,  but 
take  the  choicest  even  without  seeing  it.  In  the  same  way,  if 
you  allow  a  girl  who  is  well  brought  up  to  choose  a  husband 
for  herself,  if  she  is  in  a  position  to  meet  the  man  of  her  heart, 
rarely  will  she  blunder.     The  act  of  nature  in  such  cases  is 


100  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

known  as  love  at  first  sight ;  and,  in  love,  first  sight  is  practi- 
cally second  sight. 

The  baroness'  satisfaction,  though  disguised  under  maternal 
dignity,  was  as  great  as  her  daughter's ;  for,  of  the  three  ways 
of  marrying  Hortense  of  which  Crevel  had  spoken,  the  best, 
as  she  opined,  was  about  to  be  realized.  And  she  regarded 
this  little  drama  as  an  answer  by  Providence  to  her  fervent 
prayers. 

Mademoiselle  Fischer's  galley  slave,  obliged  at  last  to  go 
home,  thought  he  might  hide  his  joy  as  a  lover  under  his  glee 
as  an  artist  rejoicing  over  his  first  success. 

"  Victory  !  my  group  is  sold  to  the  Due  d'Herouville,  who 
is  going  to  give  me  some  commissions,"  cried  he,  throwing 
the  twelve  hundred  francs  in  gold  on  the  table  before  the  old 
maid. 

He  had,  as  may  be  supposed,  concealed  Hortense's  purse ; 
it  lay  next  his  heart. 

"And  a  very  good  thing  too,"  said  Lisbeth.  "I  was 
working  myself  to  death.  You  see,  child,  money  comes  in 
slowly  in  the  business  you  have  taken  up,  for  this  is  the  first 
you  have  earned,  and  you  have  been  grinding  at  it  for  near 
on  five  years  now.  That  money  barely  repays  me  for  what 
you  have  cost  me  since  I  took  your  promissory  note ;  that  is 
all  I  have  got  by  my  savings.  But  be  sure  of  one  thing,"  she 
said,  after  counting  the  gold,  "  this  money  will  all  be  spent 
on  you.  There  is  enough  there  to  keep  us  going  for  a  year. 
In  a  year  you  may  now  be  able  to  pay  your  debt  and  have  a 
snug  little  sum  of  your  own,  if  you  go  on  in  the  same  way." 

Wenceslas,  finding  his  trick  successful,  expatiated  on  the 
Due  d'Herouville. 

*'  I  will  fit  you  out  in  a  black  suit,  and  get  you  some  new 
linen,"  said  Lisbeth,  "  for  you  must  appear  presentably  before 
your  patrons ;  and  then  you  must  have  a  larger  and  better 
apartment  than  your  horrible  garret,  and  furnish  it  properly. 


COUSIN  BETTY.  101 

You  look  so  briglit,  you  are  not  like  the  same  creature,"  she 
added,  gazing  at  Wenceslas. 

"  But  my  work  is  pronounced  a  masterpiece." 

"Well,  so  much  the  better!  Do  some  more,"  said  the 
arid  creature,  who  was  nothing  but  practical,  and  incapable 
of  understanding  the  joy  of  triumph  or  of  beauty  in  Art. 
"  Trouble  your  head  no  further  about  what  you  have  sold  ; 
make  something  else  to  sell.  You  have  spent  two  hundred 
francs  in  money,  to  say  nothing  of  your  time  and  your  labor 
on  that  devil  of  a  Samson.  Your  clock  will  cost  you  more 
than  two  thousand  francs  to  execute.  I  tell  you  what,  if  you 
will  listen  to  me,  you  will  finish  the  two  little  boys  crowning 
the  little  girl  with  corn-flowers  ;  that  would  just  suit  the  Paris- 
ians. I  will  go  round  to  Monsieur  Graff  the  tailor  before  go- 
ing to  Monsieur  Crevel.     Go  up  now  and  leave  me  to  dress." 

Next  day  the  baron,  perfectly  crazy  about  Madame  Mar- 
neffe,  went  to  see  Cousin  Betty,  who  was  considerably  amazed 
on  opening  the  door  to  see  who  her  visitor  was,  for  he  had 
never  called  on  her  before.  She  at  once  said  to  herself,  *•  Can 
it  be  that  Hortense  wants  my  lover?"  for  she  had  heard  the 
evening  before,  at  Monsieur  Crevel's,  that  the  marriage  with 
the  councilor  of  the  Supreme  Court  was  broken  off. 

**  What,  cousin  !  you  here  ?  This  is  the  first  time  you  have 
ever  been  to  see  me,  and  it  is  certainly  not  for  love  of  my 
fine  eyes  that  you  have  come  now." 

"Fine  eyes  is  the  truth,"  said  the  baron;  "you  have  as 
fine  eyes  as  I  have  ever  seen ' ' 

"Come,  what  are  you  here  for?  I  really  am  ashamed  to 
receive  you  in  such  a  kennel." 

The  outer  room  of  the  two  inhabited  by  Lisbeth  served  her 
as  sitting-room,  dining-room,  kitchen,  and  work-room.  The 
furniture  was  such  as  beseemed  a  well-to-do  artisan — walnut- 
wood  chairs  with  straw  seats,  a  small  walnut-wood  dining  table, 
a  work-table,  some  colored  prints  in  black  wooden  frames, 
short  India-muslin  curtains  to  the  windows,  the  floor  well 


102  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

polished  and  shining  with  cleanliness,  not  a  speck  of  dust 
anywhere,  but  all  cold  and  dingy,  like  a  picture  by  Terburg 
in  every  particular,  even  to  the  gray  tone  given  by  a  wall- 
paper once  blue  and  now  faded  to  gray.  As  to  the  bedroom, 
no  human  being  had  ever  penetrated  its  secrets. 

The  baron  took  it  all  in  at  a  glance,  saw  the  sign-manual  of 
commonness  on  every  detail,  from  the  cast-iron  stove  to  the 
household  utensils,  and  his  gorge  rose  at  it  as  he  said  to  him- 
self, "And  this  is  virtue!  What  am  I  here  for?"  said  he 
aloud.  "You  are  far  too  cunning  not  to  guess,  and  I  had 
better  tell  you  plainly,"  cried  he,  sitting  down  and  looking 
out  across  the  courtyard  through  an  opening  he  made  in  the 
puckered  curtain.     "  There  is  a  very  pretty  woman  in  the 

house " 

"  Madame  Mam effe  !  Now  I  understand  !  "  she  exclaimed, 
seeing  it  all.     "  But  Josepha  ?  " 

"Alas  !  cousin,  Josepha  is  no  more.  I  was  turned  out  of 
doors  like  a  discarded  footman." 

"And  you  would  like ?"  said  Lisbeth  looking  at  the 

baron  with  the  dignity  of  a  prude  on  her  guard  a  quarter  of 

an  hour  too  soon. 

"As  Madame  Marneffe  is  very  much  the  lady,  and  the  wife 

of  an   employe,    you   can   meet   her   without   compromising 

yourself,"  the  baron  went  on,  "and  I  should  like  to  see  you 

neighborly.     Oh  !  you  need  not  be  alarmed  ;  she  will  have 

the  greatest  consideration  for  the  cousin   of  her   husband's 

chief." 

At  this  moment  the  rustle  of  a  gown  was  heard  on  the  stairs 

and  the  footstep  of  a  woman   wearing  the  thinnest   shoes. 

The  sound  ceased  on  the  landing.     There  was  a  tap  at  the 

door,  and  Madame  Marneffe  came  in. 

"  Pray  excuse  me,  mademoiselle,  for  thus  intruding  upon 

you,  but  I  failed  to  find  you  yesterday  when  I  came  to  call ; 

we  are  near  neighbors ;  and  if  I  had  known  that  you  were 

related  to  Monsieur  le  Baron,  I  should  long  since  have  craved 


COUSIN  BETTY.  103 

your  kind  interest  with  him.  I  saw  him  come  in,  so  I  took 
the  liberty  of  coming  across ;  for  my  husband,  Monsieur  le 
]5aron,  spoke  to  me  of  a  report  on  the  office  clerks  which  is 
to  be  laid  before  the  minister  to-morrow." 

She  seemed  quite  agitated  and  nervous — ^but  she  had  only 
run  upstairs. 

"  You  have  no  need  to  play  the  petitioner,  fair  lady,"  replied 
the  baron.     "  It  is  I  who  should  ask  the  favor  of  seeing  you." 

"  Very  well,  if  mademoiselle  allows  it,  pray  come  !  "  said 
Madame  Marneffe. 

"Yes — go,  cousin,  I  will  join  you,"  said  Lisbeth  judici- 
ously. 

The  Parisienne  had  so  confidently  counted  on  the  chiefs 
visit  and  intelligence,  that  not  only  had  she  dressed  herself 
for  so  important  an  interview — she  had  dressed  her  room. 
Early  in  the  day  it  had  been  furnished  with  flowers  purchased 
on  credit.  Marneffe  had  helped  his  wife  to  polish  the  furni- 
ture, down  to  the  smallest  objects,  washing,  brushing,  and 
dusting  everything.  Valerie  wished  to  be  found  in  an  atmos- 
phere of  sweetness,  to  attract  the  chief  and  to  please  him 
enough  to  have  a  right  to  be  cruel ;  to  tantalize  him  as  a  child 
would,  with  all  the  tricks  of  fashionable  tactics.  She  had 
gauged  Hulot.  Give  a  Paris  woman  at  bay  four-and-twenty 
hours,  and  she  will  overthrow  a  ministry. 

The  man  of  the  Empire,  accustomed  to  the  ways  of  the 
Empire,  was  no  doubt  quite  ignorant  of  the  ways  of  modern 
love-making,  of  the  scruples  in  vogue  and  the  various  styles 
of  conversation  invented  since  1830,  which  led  to  the  poor 
weak  woman  being  regarded  as  the  victim  of  her  lover's 
desires — a  sister  of  charity  salving  a  wound,  an  angel  sacrific- 
ing herself. 

This  modern  art  of  love  uses  a  vast  amount  of  evangelical 
phrases  in  the  service  of  the  devil.  Passion  is  martyrdom. 
Both  parties  aspire  to  the  Ideal,  to  the  Infinite;  love  is  to 
make  them  so  much  better.     All  these  fine  words  are  but  a 


104  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

pretext  for  putting  increased  ardor  into  the  practical  side  of 
it,  more  frenzy  into  a  fall  than  of  old.  This  hypocrisy,  a 
characteristic  of  the  times,  is  a  gangrene  in  gallantry.  The 
lovers  are  both  angels,  and  they  behave,  if  they  can,  like  two 
devils. 

Love  had  no  time  for  such  subtle  analysis  between  two 
campaigns,  and  in  1809  its  successes  were  as  rapid  as  those  of 
the  Empire.  So,  under  the  Restoration,  the  handsome  baron, 
a  lady's  man  once  more,  had  begun  by  consoling  some  old 
friends  now  fallen  from  the  political  firmament,  like  extin- 
guished stars,  and  then,  as  he  grew  old,  was  captured  by 
Jenny  Cadine  and  Josepha. 

Madame  Marneffe  had  placed  her  batteries  after  due  study 
of  the  baron's  past  life,  which  her  husband  had  narrated  in 
much  detail,  after  picking  up  some  information  in  the  offices. 
The  comedy  of  modern  sentiment  might  have  the  charm  of 
novelty  to  the  baron  ;  Valerie  had  made  up  her  mind  as 
to  her  scheme ;  and  we  may  say  the  trial  of  her  power  that 
she  made  this  morning  answered  her  highest  expectations. 
Thanks  to  her  manoeuvres,  sentimental,  high-flown,  and  ro- 
mantic, Valerie,  without  committing  herself  to  any  promises, 
obtained  for  her  husband  the  appointment  as  deputy-head 
of  the  office  and  the  cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor, 

The  campaign  was  not  carried  out  without  little  dinners 
at  the  Rocher  de  Cancale,  parties  to  the  play,  and  gifts  in 
the  form  of  lace,  scarfs,  gowns,  and  jewelry.  The  apart- 
ment in  the  Rue  du  Doyennd  was  not  satisfactory;  the  baron 
proposed  to  furnish  another  magnificently  in  a  charming  new 
house  in  the  Rue  Vanneau. 

Monsieur  Marneffe  got  a  fortnight's  leave,  to  be  taken  a 
month  hence  for  urgent  private  affairs  in  the  country,  and  a 
present  in  money;  he  promised  himself  that  he  would  spend 
both  in  a  little  town  in  Switzerland,  studying  the  fair  sex. 

While  Monsieur  Hulot  thus  devoted  himself  to  the  lady  he 
was  "  protecting,"  he  did  not  forget  the  young  artist.    Comte 


COUSIN  BETTY.  lOS 

Popinot,  minister  of  commerce,  was  a  patron  of  Art ;  he  paid 
two  thousand  francs  for  a  copy  of  the  Samson  on  condition 
that  the  mould  should  be  broken,  and  that  there  should  be  no 
Samson  but  his  and  Mademoiselle  Hulot's.  The  group  was 
admired  by  a  prince,  to  whom  the  model  sketch  for  the  clock 
was  also  shown,  and  who  ordered  it ;  but  that  again  was  to  be 
unique,  and  he  offered  thirty  thousand  francs  for  it. 

Artists  who  were  consulted,  and  among  them  Stidmann, 
were  of  opinion  that  the  man  who  had  sketched  those  two 
models  was  capable  of  achieving  a  statue.  The  Marshal 
Prince  de  Wissembourg,  minister  of  war,  and  president  of 
the  committee  for  the  subscriptions  to  the  monument  of 
Marshal  Montcornet,  called  a  meeting,  at  which  it  was  de- 
cided that  the  execution  of  the  work  should  be  placed  in 
Steinbeck's  hands.  The  Comte  de  Rastignac,  at  that  time 
under-secretary  of  State,  wished  to  possess  a  work  by  the 
artist,  whose  glory  was  waxing  amid  the  acclamations  of  his 
rivals.  Steinbock  sold  to  him  the  charming  group  of  two 
little  boys  crowning  a  little  girl,  and  he  promised  to  secure 
for  the  sculptor  a  studio  attached  to  the  Government  marble- 
quarries,  situated,  as  all  the  world  knows,  at  Le  Gros-Caillou. 

This  was  success,  such  success  as  is  won  in  Paris,  that  is 
to  say,  stupendous  success,  that  crushes  those  whose  shoulders 
and  loins  are  not  strong  enough  to  bear  it — as,  be  it  said,  not 
infrequently  is  the  case.  Count  Wenceslas  Steinbock  was 
written  about  in  all  the  newspapers  and  reviews  without  his 
having  the  least  suspicion  of  it,  any  more  than  had  Mademoi- 
selle Fischer.  Every  day,  as  soon  as  Lisbeth  had  gone  out  to 
dinner,  Wenceslas  went  to  the  baroness*  and  spent  an  hour  or 
two  there,  excepting  on  the  evenings  when  Lisbeth  dined 
with  the  Hulots. 

This  state  of  things  lasted  for  several  days. 
The  baron,  assured  of  Count  Steinbock's  titles  and  position  ; 
the  baroness,  pleased  with  his  character  and  habits ;  Hortense, 


106  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

proud  of  her  permitted  love  and  of  her  suitor's  fame,  none  of 
them  hesitated  to  speak  of  the  marriage ;  in  short,  the  artist 
was  in  the  seventh  heaven,  when  an  indiscretion  on  Madame 
Marneffe's  part  spoilt  all. 

And  this  was  how : 

Lisbeth,  whom  the  baron  wished  to  see  intimate  with 
Madame  Marneffe,  that  she  might  keep  an  eye  on  the  couple, 
had  already  dined  with  Valerie ;  and  she,  on  her  part,  anxious 
to  have  an  ear  in  the  Hulot  house,  made  much  of  the  old 
maid.  It  occurred  to  Valerie  to  invite  Mademoiselle  Fischer 
to  a  house-warming  in  the  new  apartments  she  was  about  to 
move  into.  Lisbeth,  glad  to  have  found  another  house  to 
dine  in,  and  bewitched  by  Madame  Marneffe,  had  taken  a 
great  fancy  to  Valerie.  Of  all  the  persons  she  had  made  ac- 
quaintance with,  no  one  had  taken  so  much  pains  to  please 
her.  In  fact,  Madame  Marneffe,  full  of  attentions  for  Made- 
moiselle Fischer,  found  herself  in  the  position  toward  Lisbeth 
that  Lisbeth  held  toward  the  baroness.  Monsieur  Rivet,  Crevel, 
and  the  others  who  invited  her  to  dinner. 

The  Marneffes  had  excited  Lisbeth's  compassion  by  allowing 
her  to  see  the  extreme  poverty  of  the  house,  while  varnishing 
it  as  usual  with  the  fairest  colors :  their  friends  were  under 
obligations  to  them  and  ungrateful ;  they  had  had  much  illness; 
Madame  Fortin,  her  mother,  had  never  known  of  their  dis- 
tress, and  had  died  believing  herself  wealthy  to  the  end, 
thanks  to  their  superhuman  efforts — and  so  forth. 

"Poor  people!  "  said  she  to  her  Cousin  Hulot,  "you  are 
right  to  do  what  you  can  for  them ;  they  are  so  brave  and 
so  kind  !  They  can  hardly  live  on  the  thousand  crowns  he 
gets  as  deputy-head  of  the  office,  for  they  have  got  into  debt 
since  Marshal  Montcornet's  death.  It  is  barbarity  on  the 
part  of  the  Government  to  suppose  that  a  clerk  with  a  wife 
and  family  can  live  in  Paris  on  two  thousand  four  hundred 
francs  a  year. ' ' 

And  so,  within  a  very  short  time,  a  young  woman  who  affected 


COUSIN  BETTY.  Iff7 

regard  for  her,  who  told  her  everything,  and  consulted  her, 
who  flattered  her,  and  seemed  ready  to  yield  to  her  guidance, 
had  become  dearer  to  the  eccentric  Cousin  Lisbeth  than  all 
her  relations. 

The  baron,  on  his  part,  admiring  in  Madame  Marneffe  such 
propriety,  education,  and  breeding  as  neither  Jenny  Cadine, 
nor  Josepha,  nor  any  friends  of  theirs  had  to  show,  had  fallen 
in  love  with  her  in  a  month,  developing  a  senile  passion,  a 
senseless  one,  which  had,  nevertheless,  an  appearance  of  reason. 
In  fact,  he  found  here  neither  the  banter,  nor  the  orgies,  nor 
the  reckless  expenditure,  nor  the  depravity,  nor  the  scorn  of 
social  decencies,  nor  the  insolent  independence  which  had 
brought  him  to  grief  alike  with  the  actress  and  the  singer. 
He  was  spared,  too,  the  rapacity  of  the  courtesan,  like  unto 
the  thirst  of  dry  sand. 

Madame  Marneffe,  of  whom  he  had  made  a  friend  and  con- 
fidante, made  the  greatest  difficulties  over  accepting  any  gift 
from  him. 

"  Appointments,  official  presents,  anything  you  can  extract 
from  the  Government ;  but  do  not  begin  by  insulting  a  woman 
whom  you  profess  to  love,"  said  Valerie.  "  If  you  do,  I  shall 
cease  to  believe  you — and  I  like  to  believe  you,"  she  added, 
with  a  glance  like  Saint  Theresa  leering  at  heaven. 

Every  time  he  made  her  a  present  there  was  a  fortress  to 
be  stormed,  a  conscience  to  be  over-persuaded.  The  hapless 
baron  laid  deep  stratagems  to  offer  her  some  trifle — costly, 
nevertheless — proud  of  having  at  last  met  with  virtue  and  the 
realization  of  his  dreams.  In  this  primitive  household,  as  he 
assured  himself,  he  was  the  god  as  much  as  in  his  own.  And 
Monsieur  Marneffe  seemed  at  a  thousand  leagues  from  suspect- 
ing that  the  Jupiter  of  his  office  intended  to  descend  on  his 
wife  in  a  shower  of  gold ;  he  was  his  august  chiefs  humblest 
slave. 

Madame  Marneffe,  twenty-three  years  of  age,  a  pure  and 
bashful  middle-class  wife,  a  blossom  hidden  in   the  Rue  du 


108  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

Doyenne,  could  know  nothing  of  the  depravity  and  demoraliz- 
ing harlotry  which  the  baron  could  no  longer  think  of  without 
disgust,  for  he  had  never  known  the  charm  of  recalcitrant  vir- 
tue, and  the  coy  Valerie  made  him  enjoy  it  to  the  utmost — all 
along  the  line,  as  the  saying  goes. 

The  question  having  come  to  this  point  between  Hector 
and  Valerie,  it  is  not  astonishing  that  Valerie  should  have 
heard  from  Hector  the  secret  of  the  intended  marriage  be- 
tween the  great  sculptor  Steinbock  and  Hortense  Hulot. 
Between  a  lover  on  his  promotion  and  a  lady  who  hesitates 
long  before  becoming  his  mistress,  there  are  contests,  uttered 
or  unexpressed,  in  which  a  word  often  betrays  a  thought ; 
as,  in  fencing,  the  foils  fly  as  briskly  as  the  swords  in  duel. 
Then  a  prudent  man  follows  the  example  of  Monsieur  de 
Turenne.  Thus  the  baron  had  hinted  at  the  greater  freedom 
his  daughter's  marriage  would  allow  him,  in  reply  to  the 
tender  Valerie,  who  more  than  once  had  exclaimed — 

*'  I  cannot  imagine  how  a  woman  can  go  wrong  for  a  man 
who  is  not  wholly  hers." 

And  a  thousand  times  already  the  baron  had  declared  that 
for  five-and-twenty  years  all  had  been  at  an  end  between 
Madame  Hulot  and  himself. 

"And  they  say  she  is  so  handsome!"  replied  Madame 
Marneffe.     *'  I  want  proof." 

"You  shall  have  it,"  said  the  baron,  made  happy  by  this 
demand,  by  which  his  Valerie  committed  herself. 

Hector  had  then  been  compelled  to  reveal  his  plans,  already 
being  carried  into  effect  in  the  Rue  Vanneau,  to  prove  to 
Valerie  that  he  intended  to  devote  to  her  that  half  of  his  life 
which  belonged  to  his  lawful  wife,  supposing  that  day  and 
night  equally  divide  the  existence  of  civilized  humanity.  He 
spoke  of  decently  deserting  his  wife,  leaving  her  to  herself  as 
soon  as  Hortense  should  be  married.  The  baroness  would  then 
spend  all  her  time  with  Hortense  or  the  young  Hulot  couple ; 
he  was  sure  of  her  submission. 


COUSIN  BETTY.  109 

"And  then,  my  angel,  my  true  life,  my  real  home  w»ll  b« 
in  the  Rue  Vanneau." 

"Bless  me,  how  you  dispose  of  me!"  said  Madame 
Marneffe.     "  And  my  husband " 

"That  rag?" 

"To  be  sure,  as  compared  with  you,  so  he  is! "  said  she 
with  a  laugh. 

Madame  Marneffe,  having  heard  Steinbock's  history,  was 
frantically  eager  to  see  the  young  count ;  perhaps  she  wished 
to  have  some  trifle  of  his  work  while  they  still  lived  under  the 
same  roof.  This  curiosity  so  seriously  annoyed  the  baron  that 
Valerie  swore  to  him  that  she  would  never  even  look  at  Wen- 
ceslas.  But  though  she  obtained,  as  the  reward  of  her  sur- 
render of  this  wish,  a  little  tea-service  of  old  Sevres  pate 
iefuire,  slie  kept  her  wish  at  the  bottom  of  h«r  heart,  as  if 
written  on  tablets. 

So  one  day  when  she  had  begged  **»y  Cousin  Betty"  to 
come  to  take  coffee  with  her  in  her  room,  she  opened  on  the 
subject  of  her  lover,  to  know  how  she  might  see  him  without 
risk. 

"My  dear  child,"  said  she,  for  they  called  each  my  dear, 
"why  have  you  never  introduced  your  lover  to  me?  Do  you 
know  that  within  a  short  time  he  has  become  famous?  " 

"He  famous?" 

"  He  is  the  one  subject  of  conversation." 

"  Pooh  !  "  cried  Lisbeth. 

"He  is  going  to  execute  the  statue  of  my  father,  and  I 
could  be  of  great  use  to  him  and  help  him  to  succeed  in  th« 
work;  for  Madame  Montcornet  cannot  lend  him,  as  I  can,  a 
miniature  by  Sain,  a  beautiful  thing  done  in  1809,  before  the 
Wagram  Campaign,  and  given  to  my  poor  mother — Mont- 
cornet when  he  was  young  and  handsome. ' ' 

Sain  and  Augustin  between  them  held  the  sceptre  of  minia- 
ture painting  under  the  Empire. 

"He  is  going  to  make  a  statue,  my  dear,  did  you  say?  " 


110  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

*'  Nine  feet  high — by  the  orders  of  the  minister  of  war. 
Why,  where  have  you  dropped  from  that  I  should  tell  you  the 
news  ?  Why,  the  Government  is  going  to  give  Count  Stein- 
bock  rooms  and  a  studio  at  Le  Gros-Caillou,  the  depot  for 
marble;  your  Pole  will  be  made  the  director,  I  should  not 
wonder,  with  two  thousand  francs  a  year  and  a  ring  on  his 
finger." 

"  How  do  you  know  all  this  when  I  have  heard  nothing 
about  it?"  said  Lisbeth  at  last,  shaking  off  her  amazement. 

"Now,  my  dear  little  Cousin  Betty,"  said  Madame 
Marneffe,  in  an  insinuating  voice,  "are  you  capable  of  de- 
voted friendship,  put  to  any  test?  Shall  we  henceforth  be 
sisters?  Will  you  swear  to  me  never  to  have  a  secret  from 
me  any  more  than  I  from  you — to  act  as  my  spy,  as  I  will  be 
yours?  Above  all,  will  you  pledge  yourself  never  to  betray 
me  either  to  my  husband  or  to  Monsieur  Hulot,  and  never 
reveal  that  it  was  I  who  told  you ?  " 

Madame  Marneffe  broke  off  in  this  spurring  harangue ; 
Lisbeth  frightened  her.  The  peasant-woman's  face  was  ter- 
rible ;  her  piercing  black  eyes  had  the  glare  of  a  tiger's ;  her 
face  was  like  that  we  ascribe  to  a  pythoness;  she  set  her  teeth 
to  keep  them  from  chattering,  and  her  whole  frame  quivered 
convulsively.  She  had  pushed  her  clenched  fingers  under  her 
cap  to  clutch  her  hair  and  support  her  head,  which  felt  too 
heavy ;  she  was  on  fire.  The  smoke  of  the  flame  that  scorched 
her  seemed  to  emanate  from  her  wrinkles  as  from  the  crevasses 
rent  by  a  volcanic  eruption.     It  was  a  startling  spectacle. 

"Well,  why  do  you  stop?"  she  asked  in  a  hollow  voice. 
"I  will  be  all  to  you  that  I  have  been  to  him.  Oh,  I  would 
have  given  him  my  life-blood  !  " 

"  You  loved  him  then  ?  " 

"  Like  a  child  of  my  own  !  " 

"Well,  then,"  said  Madame  Marneffe,  with  a  breath  of 
relief,  "if  you  only  love  him  in  that  way,  you  will  be  very 
happy — for  you  wish  him  to  be  happy  ?  " 


COUSIN  BETTY.  Ill 

Lisbeth  replied  by  a  nod  as  hasty  as  a  mad  woman's. 

"  He  is  to  marry  your  Cousin  Hortense  in  a  month's  time." 

"  Hortense  !  "  shrieked  the  old  maid,  striking  her  forehead, 
and  starting  to  her  feet. 

"Well,  but  then  you  were  really  in  love  with  this  young 
man?"  asked  Valerie. 

"My  dear,  we  are  bound  for  life  and  death,  you  and  I," 
said  Mademoiselle  Fischer.  "  Yes,  if  you  have  any  love 
affairs,  to  me  they  are  sacred.  Your  vices  will  be  virtues  in 
my  eyes.     For  I  shall  need  your  vices ! ' ' 

"  Then  did  you  live  with  him  ?  "  asked  Valerie. 

**  No  ;  I  meant  to  be  a  mother  to  him." 

"  I  give  it  up,  I  cannot  understand,"  said  Valerie.  "In 
that  case  you  are  neither  betrayed  nor  cheated,  and  you  ought 
to  be  very  happy  to  see  him  so  well  married ;  he  is  now  fairly 
afloat.  And,  at  any  rate,  your  day  is  over.  Our  artist  goes 
to  Madame  Hulot's  every  evening  as  soon  as  you  go  out  to 
dinner." 

"Adeline!  "  muttered  Lisbeth.  "Oh,  Adeline,  you  shall 
pay  for  this !     I  shall  make  you  uglier  than  I  am  !  " 

"  You  are  as  pale  as  death  !  "  exclaimed  Valerie.  "  There 
is  something  wrong  ?  Oh,  what  a  fool  I  am !  The  mother 
and  daughter  must  have  suspected  that  you  would  raise  some 
obstacles  in  the  way  of  this  affair  since  they  have  kept  it  from 
you,"  said  Madame  Marneffe.  "  But  if  you  did  not  live  with 
the  young  man,  my  dear,  all  this  is  a  greater  puzzle  to  me  than 
my  husband's  feelings " 

"Ah,  you  don't  know,"  said  Lisbeth;  "you  have  no  idea 
of  all  their  tricks.  It  is  the  last  blow  that  kills.  And  how 
many  such  blows  have  I  had  to  bruise  my  soul !  You  don't 
know  that  from  the  time  when  I  could  first  feel,  I  have  been 
victimized  for  Adeline.  I  was  beaten  and  she  was  petted  j 
I  was  dressed  like  a  scullion,  and  she  had  clothes  like  a  lady's; 
I  dug  in  the  garden  and  cleaned  the  vegetables,  and  she — she 
never  stirred  a  finger   for  anything   but   to   make  up  some 


112  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

finery  !  She  married  the  baron,  she  came  to  shine  at  the 
Emperor's  Court,  while  I  stayed  in  our  village  till  1809, 
waiting  for  four  years  for  a  suitable  match ;  they  brought  me 
away,  to  be  sure,  but  only  to  make  me  a  workwoman,  and  to 
offer  me  clerks  or  captains  like  coal-heavers  for  a  husband  1  I 
have  had  their  leavings  for  twenty-six  years  !  And  now,  like 
the  story  in  the  Old  Testament,  the  poor  relation  has  one  ewe- 
lamb  which  is  all  her  joy,  and  the  rich  man  who  has  flocks 
covets  the  ewe-lamb  and  steals  it — without  warning,  without 
asking.  Adeline  has  meanly  robbed  me  of  my  happiness ! 
Adeline  !  Adeline  !  I  will  see  you  in  the  mire,  and  sunk  lower 
than  myself!  And  Hortense — I  loved  her,  and  she  has  cheated 
me.  The  baron.  No,  it  is  impossible.  Tell  me  again  what 
is  really  true  of  all  this." 

''Be  calm,  my  dear  child." 

"Valerie,  my  darling,  I  will  be  calm,"  said  the  strange 
creature,  sitting  down  again.  "  One  thing  only  can  restore 
me  to  reason :  give  me  proofs." 

*'  Your  Cousin  Hortense  has  the  Samson  group — here  is  a 
lithograph  from  it  published  in  a  review.  She  paid  for  it  out 
of  her  pocket-money,  and  it  is  the  baron,  who,  to  benefit  his 
future  son-in-law,  is  pushing  him,  getting  everything  for 
him." 

"Water! — ^water !  "  said  Lisbeth,  after  glancing  at  the 
print,  below  which  she  read,  "A  group  belonging  to  Made- 
moiselle Hulot  d'Ervy."  "Water!  my  head  is  burning,  I 
am  going  mad  ! ' ' 

Madame  Marneffe  fetched  some  water.  Lisbeth  took  off 
her  cap,  unfastened  her  black  hair,  and  plunged  her  head  into 
the  basin  her  new  friend  held  for  her.  She  dipped  her  fore- 
head into  it  several  times,  and  checked  the  incipient  inflam- 
mation. After  this  douche  she  completely  recovered  her  self- 
command. 

"  Not  a  word,"  said  she  to  Madame  Marneffe  as  she  wiped 
ber  face — "  not  a  word  of  all  this.    You  see,  I  am  quite  calm; 


COUSIN  BETTY.  118 

everything  is  forgotten.  I  am  thinking  of  something  very 
different." 

"  She  will  be  in  Charenton  to-morrow,  that  is  very  certain," 
thought  Madame  Marneffe,  looking  at  the  old  maid. 

"  What  is  to  be  done  ?  "  Lisbeth  went  on.  "  You  see,  my 
angel,  there  is  nothing  for  it  but  to  hold  my  tongue,  bow  my 
head,  and  drift  to  the  grave,  as  all  water  runs  to  the  river. 
What  could  I  try  to  do  ?  I  should  like  to  grind  them  all — 
Adeline,  her  daughter,  and  the  baron — all  to  dust !  But 
what  can  a  poor  relation  do  against  a  rich  family  ?  It  would 
be  the  story  of  the  earthen  pot  and  the  iron  pot." 

"Yes,  you  are  right,"  said  Valerie.  "You  can  only  pull 
as  much  hay  as  you  can  to  your  side  of  the  manger.  That  is 
all  the  upshot  of  life  in  Paris." 

"Beside,"  said  Lisbeth,  "I  shall  soon  die,  I  can  tell  you, 
if  I  lose  that  boy  to  whom  I  fancied  I  could  always  be  a  mother, 
and  with  whom  I  counted  on  living  all  my  days " 

There  were  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  she  paused.  Such  emo- 
tion, in  this  woman  made  of  sulphur  and  flame,  made  Valerie 
shudder. 

"  Well,  at  any  rate,  I  have  found  you,"  said  Lisbeth,  tak- 
ing Valerie's  hand,  "that  is  some  consolation  in  this  dread- 
ful trouble.  We  will  be  true  friends ;  and  why  should  we 
ever  part?  I  shall  never  cross  your  track.  No  one  will  ever 
be  in  love  with  me !  Those  who  would  have  married  me, 
would  only  have  done  it  to  secure  my  Cousin  Hulot's  interest. 
With  energy  enough  to  scale  Paradise,  to  have  to  devote  it  to 
procuring  bread  and  water,  a  few  rags,  and  a  garret !  That 
is  martyrdom,  my  dear,  and  I  have  withered  under  it." 

She  broke  off  suddenly,  and  shot  a  black  flash  into  Madame 
Marneffe's  blue  eyes,  a  glance  that  pierced  the  pretty  woman's 
soul,  as  the  point  of  a  dagger  might  have  pierced  her  heart. 

"And  what  is  the  use  of  talking?"  she  exclaimed  in 
reproof  to  herself.  "  I  never  said  so  much  before,  believe 
me !  The  tables  will  be  turned  yet !  "  she  added,  after  a 
8 


114  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

pause.  **  As  you  so  wisely  say,  let  us  sharpen  our  teeth,  and 
pull  down  all  the  hay  we  can  get." 

"You  are  very  wise,"  said  Madame  Marneffe,  who  had 
been  frightened  by  this  scene,  and  had  no  remembrance  of 
having  uttered  this  maxim.  "  I  am  sure  you  are  right,  my 
dear  child.  Life  is  not  so  long  after  all,  and  we  must  make 
the  best  of  it,  and  make  use  of  others  to  contribute  to  our 
enjoyment.  Even  I  have  learned  that,  young  as  I  am.  I  was 
brought  up  a  spoilt  child,  my  father  married  ambitiously,  and 
almost  forgot  me,  after  making  me  his  idol  and  bringing  me 
up  like  a  queen's  daughter  1  My  poor  mother,  who  filled  my 
head  with  splendid  visions,  died  of  grief  at  seeing  me  married 
to  an  office  clerk  with  twelve  hundred  francs  a  year,  at  nine- 
and-thirty  an  aged  and  hardened  libertine,  as  corrupt  as  the 
hulks,  looking  on  me,  as  others  looked  on  you,  as  a  means  of 
fortune  !  Well,  in  that  wretched  man  I  have  found  the  best 
of  husbands.  He  prefers  the  squalid  sluts  he  picks  up  at  the 
street  corners,  and  leaves  me  free.  Though  he  keeps  all  his 
salary  to  himself,  he  never  asks  me  where  I  get  money  on 
which  to  live " 

And  she  in  her  turn  stopped  short,  as  a  woman  does  who 
feels  herself  carried  away  by  the  torrent  of  her  confessions  ; 
struck,  too,  by  Lisbeth's  eager  attention,  she  thought  well  to 
make  sure  of  Lisbeth  before  revealing  her  last  secrets. 

*'You  see,  dear  child,  how  entire  is  my  confidence  in 
you  !  "  she  presently  added,  to  which  Lisbeth  replied  by  a 
most  comforting  nod. 

An  oath  may  be  taken  by  a  look  and  a  nod  more  solemnly 
than  in  a  court  of  justice. 

"I  keep  up  every  appearance  of  respectability,"  Valerie 
went  on,  laying  her  hand  on  Lisbeth's  as  if  to  accept  her 
pledge.  "  I  am  a  married  woman,  and  my  own  mistress,  to 
such  a  degree,  that  in  the  morning,  when  Marneffe  sets  out 
for  the  office,  if  he  takes  it  into  his  head  to  say  good-by  and 


COUSIN  BETTY.  116 

finds  my  door  locked,  he  goes  off  without  a  word.  He  cares 
less  for  his  boy  than  I  care  for  one  of  the  marble  children  that 
play  at  the  feet  of  one  of  the  river-gods  in  the  Tuileries.  If 
I  do  not  come  home  to  dinner,  he  dines  quite  contentedly 
with  my  maid,  for  the  maid  is  devoted  to  monsieur ;  and  he 
goes  out  every  evening  after  dinner,  and  does  not  come  in 
till  twelve  or  one  o'clock.  Unfortunately,  for  a  year  past,  I 
have  had  no  ladies'  maid,  which  is  as  much  as  to  say  that  I 
am  a  widow ! 

*'  I  have  had  but  one  passion,  have  once  been  happy — a 
rich  Brazilian,  who  went  away  a  year  ago — my  only  lapse  ! 
He  went  away  to  sell  his  estates,  to  realize  his  land,  and  come 
back  to  live  in  France.  What  will  he  find  left  of  his  Valerie  ? 
A  dunghill.  Well !  it  is  his  fault  and  not  mine ;  why  does 
he  delay  coming  so  long  ?  Perhaps  he  has  been  wrecked — 
like  my  virtue." 

"  Good-by,  my  dear,"  said  Lisbeth  abruptly;  "we  are 
friends  for  ever.  I  love  you,  I  esteem  you,  I  am  wholly 
■yours !  My  cousin  is  tormenting  me  to  go  and  live  in  the 
house  you  are  moving  to,  in  the  Rue  Vanneau ;  but  I  would 
not  go,  for  I  saw  at  once  the  reasons  for  this  fresh  piece  of 
kindness " 

"  Yes  ;  you  would  have  kept  an  eye  on  me,  I  know  !  "  said 
Madame  MarnefTe. 

"That  was,  no  doubt,  the  motive  of  his  generosity,"  re- 
plied L'sbeth.  "  In  Paris,  most  beneficence  is  a  speculation, 
as  most  acts  of  ingratitude  are  revenge  !  To  a  poor  relation 
you  behave  as  you  do  to  rats  to  whom  you  offer  a  bit  of  bacon. 
Now,  I  will  accept  the  baron's  offer,  for  this  house  is  grown 
intolerable  to  me.  You  and  I  have  wit  enough  to  hold  our 
tongues  about  everything  that  would  damage  us,  and  tell  all 
that  we  think  needs  telling.  So,  no  blabbing — and  we  are 
friends." 

"Through  thick  and  thin  !  "  cried  Madame  Marneffe,  de- 
lighted to  have  a  sheep-dog,  a  confidante,  a  sort  of  respectable 


116  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

aunt.  "Listen  to  me;  the  baron  is  doing  a  great  deal  in 
the  Rue  Vanneau " 

"I  believe  you!"  interrupted  Lisbeth.  "He  has  spent 
thirty  thousand  francs  !  Where  he  got  the  money,  I  am  sure 
I  don't  know,  for  Josepha  the  singer  bled  him  dry.  Oh ! 
you  are  in  luck,"  she  went  on.  "The  baron  would  steal  for 
a  woman  who  held  his  heart  in  two  little  white  satin  hands 
like  yours !  " 

"Well,  then,"  said  Madame  Marneffe,  with  the  liberality 
of  such  creatures,  which  is  mere  recklessness,  "look  here,  my 
dear  child ;  take  away  from  here  everything  that  may  serve 
your  turn  in  your  new  quarters — that  chest  of  drawers,  that 
wardrobe  and  mirror,  the  carpet,  the  curtains " 

Lisbeth's  eyes  dilated  with  excessive  joy ;  she  was  incred- 
ulous of  such  a  gift. 

"You  are  doing  more  for  me  in  a  breath  than  my  rich 
relations  have  done  in  thirty  years !  "  she  exclaimed.  "They 
have  never  even  asked  themselves  whether  I  had  any  furniture 
at  all.  On  his  first  visit,  a  few  weeks  ago,  the  baron  made  a 
rich  man's  face  on  seeing  how  poor  I  was.  Thank  you,  my 
dear ;  and  I  will  give  you  your  money's  worth,  you  will  see 
how  by-and-by." 

Valerie  went  out  on  to  the  landing  with  her  Cousin  Betty, 
and  the  two  women  embraced. 

"  Pooh  !  How  she  stinks  of  hard  work  !  "  said  the  pretty 
little  woman  to  herself  when  she  was  alone.  "  I  shall  not 
embrace  you  often,  my  dear  cousin  !  At  the  same  time,  I 
must  look  sharp.  She  must  be  skillfully  managed,  for  she  can 
be  of  use,  and  help  me  to  make  my  fortune." 

Like  the  true  Creole  of  Paris,  Madame  MarnefTe  abhorred 
trouble ;  she  had  the  calm  indifference  of  a  cat,  which  never 
jumps  or  runs  but  when  urged  by  necessity.  To  her,  life  must 
be  all  pleasure;  and  the  pleasure  without  difficulties.  She 
loved  flowers,  provided  they  were  brought  to  her.  She  could 
not  imagine  going  to  the  play  but  to  a  good  box,  at  her  own 


COUSIN  BETTY.  117 

command,  and  in  a  carriage  to  take  her  there.  Valerie  in- 
herited these  courtesan  tastes  from  her  mother,  on  whom 
General  Montcornet  had  lavished  luxury  when  he  was  in  Paris, 
and  who  for  twenty  years  had  seen  all  the  world  at  her  feet ; 
who  had  been  wasteful  and  prodigal,  squandering  her  all  in 
the  luxurious  living  of  which  the  programme  has  been  lost  since 
the  fall  of  Napoleon. 

The  grandees  of  the  Empire  were  a  match  in  their  follies 
for  the  great  nobles  of  the  last  century.  Under  the  Restora- 
tion the  nobility  cannot  forget  that  it  has  been  beaten  and 
robbed,  and  so,  with  two  or  three  exceptions,  it  has  become 
thrifty,  prudent,  and  stay-at-home,  in  short,  bourgeoise  and 
penurious.  Since  then,  1830  has  crowned  the  work  of  1793. 
In  France,  henceforth,  there  will  be  great  names,  but  no  great 
houses,  unless  there  should  be  political  changes  which  we  can 
hardly  foresee.  Everything  takes  the  stamp  of  individuality. 
The  wisest  invest  in  annuities.     Family  pride  is  destroyed. 

The  bitter  pressure  of  poverty  which  had  stung  Valerie  to 
the  quick  on  the  day  when,  to  use  Marneffe's  expression,  she 
had  "caught  on  "  with  Hnlot,  had  brought  the  young  woman 
to  the  conclusion  that  she  would  make  a  fortune  by  means  of 
her  good  looks.  So,  for  some  days,  she  had  been  feeling  the 
need  of  having  a  friend  about  her  to  take  the  place  of  a 
mother — a  devoted  friend,  to  whom  such  things  may  be  told 
as  must  be  hidden  from  a  waiting-maid,  and  who  could  act, 
come  and  go,  and  think  for  her,  a  beast  of  burden  resigned  to 
an  unequal  share  of  life.  Now,  she,  quite  as  keenly  as  Lisbeth, 
had  understood  the  baron's  motives  for  fostering  the  intimacy 
between  his  cousin  and  herself. 

Prompted  by  the  formidable  perspicacity  of  the  Parisian 
half-breed,  who  spends  her  days  stretched  on  a  sofa,  turning 
the  lantern  of  her  detective  spirit  on  the  obscurest  depths  of 
souls,  sentiments,  and  intrigues,  she  had  decided  on  making 
an  ally  of  the  spy.  This  supremely  rash  step  was,  perhaps, 
premeditated ;  she  had  discerned  the  true  nature  of  this  ardent 


118  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

creature,  burning  with  wasted  passion,  and  meant  to  attach 
her  to  herself.  Thus,  their  conversation  was  like  the  stone  a 
traveler  casts  into  an  abyss  to  demonstrate  its  depth.  And 
Madame  Marneffe  had  been  terrified  to  find  in  this  old  maid 
a  combination  of  lago  and  Richard  III.,  so  feeble  as  she 
seemed,  so  humble,  and  so  little  to  be  feared. 

For  that  instant,  Lisbeth  Fischer  had  been  her  real  self; 
that  Corsican  and  savage  temperament,  bursting  the  slender 
bonds  that  held  it  under,  had  sprung  up  to  its  terrible  height, 
as  the  branch  of  a  tree  flies  up  from  the  hand  of  a  child  that 
has  bent  it  down  to  gather  the  green  fruit. 

To  those  who  study  the  social  world,  it  must  always  be  a 
matter  of  astonishment  to  see  the  fullness,  the  perfection, 
and  the  rapidity  with  which  an  idea  develops  in  a  virgin 
nature. 

Virginity,  like  every  other  monstrosity,  has  its  special  rich- 
ness, its  absorbing  greatness.  Life,  whose  forces  are  always 
economized,  assumes  in  the  virgin  creature  an  incalculable 
power  of  resistance  and  endurance.  The  brain  is  reinforced 
in  the  sum-total  of  its  reserved  energy.  When  really  chaste 
natures  need  to  call  on  the  resources  of  body  or  soul,  and  are 
required  to  act  or  to  think,  they  have  muscles  of  steel,  or  in- 
tuitive knowledge  in  their  intelligence — diabolical  strength, 
or  the  black  magic  of  the  Will. 

From  this  point  of  view  the  Virgin  Mary,  even  if  we  re- 
gard her  only  as  a  symbol,  is  supremely  great  above  every 
other  type,  whether  Hindoo,  Egyptian,  or  Greek.  Virginity, 
the  mother  of  great  things,  magna  parens  rerum,  holds  in  her 
fair  white  hands  the  keys  of  the  upper  worlds.  In  short,  that 
grand  and  terrible  exception  deserves  all  the  honors  decreed 
to  her  by  the  Catholic  church. 

Thus,  in  one  moment,  Lisbeth  Fischer  had  become  the 
Mohican  whose  snares  none  can  escape,  whose  dissimulation 
is  inscrutable,  whose  swift  decisiveness  is  the  outcome  of  the 
incredible  perfection  of  every  organ  of  sense.    She  was  Hatred 


COUSIN  BETTY.  119 

and  Revenge,  as  implacable  as  they  are  in  Italy,  Spain,  and 
the  East.  These  two  feelings,  the  obverse  of  friendship  and 
love  carried  to  the  utmost,  are  known  only  in  lands  scorched 
by  the  sun.  But  Lisbeth  was  also  a  daughter  of  Lorraine, 
bent  on  deceit. 

She  accepted  this  detail  of  her  part  against  her  will ;  she 
began  by  making  a  curious  attempt,  due  to  her  ignorance. 
She  fancied,  as  children  do,  that  being  imprisoned  meant  the 
same  thing  as  solitary  confinement.  But  this  is  the  superlative 
degree  of  imprisonment,  and  that  superlative  is  the  privilege 
of  the  Criminal  Bench. 

As  soon  as  she  left  Madame  Marneffe,  Lisbeth  hurried  off 
to  Monsieur  Rivet,  and  found  him  in  his  office. 

"Well,  my  dear  Monsieur  Rivet,"  she  began,  when  she 
had  bolted  the  door  of  the  room.  "You  were  quite  right. 
Those  Poles !  They  are  low  villains — all  alike,  men  who 
know  neither  law  nor  fidelity." 

"  And  who  want  to  set  Europe  on  fire,"  said  the  peaceable 
Rivet,  "  to  ruin  every  trade  and  every  trader  for  the  sake  of  a 
country  that  is  all  bog-land,  they  say,  and  full  of  horrible 
Jews,  to  say  nothing  of  the  Cossacks  and  the  peasants — a  sort 
of  wild  beasts  classed  by  mistake  with  human  beings.  Your 
Poles  do  not  understand  the  times  we  live  in ;  we  are  no 
longer  barbarians.  War  is  coming  to  an  end,  my  dear  made- 
moiselle ;  it  went  out  with  the  Monarchy.  This  is  the  age  of 
triumph  for  commerce,  and  industry,  and  middle-class  pru- 
dence, such  as  were  the  making  of  Holland. 

"Yes,"  he  went  on  with  animation,  "we  live  in  a  period 
when  nations  must  obtain  all  they  need  by  the  legal  exten- 
sion of  their  liberties  and  by  the  pacific  action  of  Constitu- 
tional Institutions ;  that  is  what  the  Poles  do  not  see,  and  I 
hope 

"You  were  saying,  my  dear? "  he  added,  interrupting 

himself  when  he  saw  from  his  workwoman's  face  that  high 
politics  were  beyond  her  comprehension. 


120  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

"Here  is  the  schedule,"  said  Lisbeth.  "If  I  don't  want 
to  lose  my  three  thousand  two  hundred  and  ten  francs,  I  must 
clap  this  rogue  into  prison." 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  so?  "  cried  the  oracle  of  the  Saint-Denis 
quarter. 

The  Rivets,  successor  to  Pons  Brothers,  had  kept  their  store 
still  in  the  Rue  des  Mauvaises-Paroles,  in  the  ancient  Hotel 
Langeais,  built  by  that  illustrious  family  at  the  time  when  the 
nobility  still  gathered  round  the  Louvre. 

"Yes,  and  I  blessed  you  on  my  way  here,"  replied  Lisbeth. 

"  If  he  suspects  nothing,  he  can  be  safe  in  prison  by  eight 
o'clock  in  the  morning,"  said  Rivet,  consulting  the  almanac 
to  ascertain  the  hour  of  sunrise;  "but  not  till  the  day  after 
to-morrow,  for  he  cannot  be  imprisoned  till  he  has  had  notice 
that  he  is  to  be  arrested  by  writ,  with  the  option  of  payment 
or  imprisonment.     And  so " 

"What  an  idiotic  law!  "  exclaimed  Lisbeth.  "Of  course 
the  debtor  escapes." 

"He  has  every  right  to  do  so,"  said  the  assessor,  smiling. 
"So  this  is  the  way " 

"As  to  that,"  said  Lisbeth,  interrupting  him,  "I  will  take 
the  paper  and  hand  it  to  him,  saying  that  I  have  been  obliged 
to  raise  the  money,  and  that  the  lender  insists  on  this  formal- 
ity. I  know  my  gentleman.  He  will  not  even  look  at  the 
paper;  he  will  light  his  pipe  with  it." 

"Not  a  bad  idea,  not  bad.  Mademoiselle  Fischer!  Well, 
make  your  mind  easy;  the  job  shall  be  done.  But  stop  a 
minute ;  to  put  your  man  in  prison  is  not  the  only  point  to  be 
considered ;  you  only  want  to  indulge  in  that  legal  luxury  in 
order  to  get  your  money.     Who  is  to  pay  you? " 

"Those  who  give  him  money." 

"  To  be  sure ;  I  forgot  that  the  minister  of  war  had 
commissioned  him  to  erect  a  monument  to  one  of  our  late 
customers.  Ah !  the  house  has  supplied  many  a  uniform  to 
General  Montcornet ;  he  soon  blackened  them  with  the  smoke 


COUSIN  BETTY.  121 

of  cannon.  A  brave  man,  he  was !  and  he  always  paid  on 
the  nail." 

A  marshal  of  France  may  have  saved  the  Emperor  or  his 
country:  "He  paid  on  the  nail"  will  always  be  the  highest 
praise  he  can  have  from  a  tradesman. 

"Very  well.  And  on  Saturday,  Monsieur  Rivet,  you  sliall 
have  the  flat  tassels.  By  the  way,  I  am  moving  from  the  Rue 
du  Doyenne;  I  am  going  to  live  in  the  Rue  Vanneau." 

"You  are  very  right,  I  could  not  bear  to  see  you  in  that 
hole  which,  in  spite  of  my  aversion  to  the  Opposition,  I  must 
say  is  a  disgrace  ;  I  repeat  it,  yes  !  is  a  disgrace  to  the  Louvre 
and  the  Place  du  Carrousel.  I  am  devoted  to  Louis-Philippe, 
he  is  my  idol ;  he  is  the  august  and  exact  representative  of  the 
class  on  whom  he  founded  his  dynasty,  and  I  can  never  forget 
what  he  did  for  the  trimming-makers  by  restoring  the  National 
Guard " 

"  When  I  hear  you  speak  so,  Monsieur  Rivet,  I  cannot  help 
wondering  why  you  are  not  made  a  deputy." 

"  They  are  afraid  of  my  attachment  to  the  dynasty,"  replied 
Rivet.  "  My  political  enemies  are  the  King's.  He  has  a 
noble  character  !  They  are  a  fine  family;  in  short,"  said  he, 
returning  to  the  charge,  "  he  is  our  ideal :  morality,  economy, 
everything.  But  the  completion  of  the  Louvre  is  one  of  the 
conditions  on  which  we  gave  him  the  crown,  and  the  civil 
list,  which,  I  admit,  had  no  limits  set  to  it,  leaves  the  heart 
of  Paris  in  a  most  melancholy  state.  It  is  because  I  am  so 
strongly  in  favor  of  the  middle  course  that  I  should  like  to 
see  the  middle  of  Paris  in  a  better  condition.  Your  part  of 
the  town  is  positively  terrifying.  You  would  have  been  mur- 
dered there  one  fine  day.  And  so  your  Monsieur  Crevel  has 
been  made  major  of  his  division  !  He  will  come  to  us,  I 
hope,  for  his  big  epaulette." 

"  I  am  dining  with  him  to-night,  and  will  send  him  to  you." 

Lisbeth  believed  that  she  had  secured  her  Livonian  to  her- 
self by  cutting  him  off  from  all  communication  with  the  outer 


122  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

world.  If  he  could  no  longer  work,  the  artist  would  be  for- 
gotten as  completely  as  a  man  buried  in  a  cellar,  where  she 
alone  would  go  to  see  him.  Thus  she  had  two  happy  days, 
for  she  hoped  to  deal  a  mortal  blow  at  the  baroness  and  her 
daughter. 

To  go  to  Crevel's  house,  in  the  Rue  des  Saussayes,  she 
crossed  the  Pont  du  Carrousel,  went  along  the  Quai  Voltaire, 
the  Quai  d'Orsay,  the  Rue  Bellechasse,  Rue  de  I'Universit^, 
the  Pont  de  la  Concorde,  and  the  Avenue  de  Marigny.  This 
illogical  route  was  traced  by  the  logic  of  passion,  always  the 
foe  of  the  legs. 

Cousin  Betty,  as  long  as  she  followed  the  line  of  the  quays, 
kept  watch  on  the  opposite  shore  of  the  Seine,  walking  very 
slowly.  She  had  guessed  rightly.  She  had  left  Wenceslas 
dressing ;  she  at  once  understood  that,  as  soon  as  he  should 
be  rid  of  her,  the  lover  would  go  off  to  the  baroness'  by  the 
shortest  route.  And,  in  fact,  as  she  wandered  along  by  the 
parapet  of  the  Quai  Voltaire,  in  fancy  suppressing  the  river 
and  walking  along  the  opposite  bank,  she  recognized  the 
artist  as  he  came  out  of  the  Tuileries  to  cross  the  Pont  Royal. 
She  there  came  up  with  the  faithless  one,  and  could  follow 
him  unseen,  for  lovers  rarely  look  behind  them.  She  escorted 
him  as  far  as  Madame  Hulot's  house,  where  he  went  in  like 
an  accustomed  visitor. 

This  crowning  proof,  confirming  Madame  Marneffe's  revela- 
tions, put  Lisbeth  quite  beside  herself. 

She  arrived  at  the  newly  promoted  major's  door  in  the  state 
of  mental  irritation  which  prompts  men  to  commit  murder, 
and  found  Monsieur  Crevel  senior  in  his  drawing-room  await- 
ing his  children.  Monsieur  and  Madame  Crevel  junior,  and 
his  other  guests. 

But  Celestin  Crevel  was  so  unconscious  and  so  perfect  a 
type  of  the  Parisian  parvenu,  that  we  can  scarcely  venture  so 
unceremoniously  into  the  presence  of  Cesar  Birotteau's  suc- 
cessor.    Celestin  Crevel  was  a  world  in  himself;  and  he,  even 


COUSIN  BETTY.  125 

more  than  Rivet,  deserves  the  honors  of  the  palette  by  reason 
of  his  importance  in  this  domestic  drama. 

Have  you  ever  observed  how  in  childhood,  or  at  the  early 
stages  of  social  life,  we  create  a  model  for  our  own  imitation, 
with  our  own  hands  as  it  were,  and  often  without  knowing  it  ? 
The  banker's  clerk,  for  instance,  as  he  enters  his  master's 
drawing-room,  dreams  of  possessing  such  another.  If  he 
makes  a  fortune,  it  will  not  be  the  luxury  of  the  day,  twenty 
years  later,  that  you  will  find  in  his  house,  but  the  old-fash- 
ioned splendor  that  fascinated  him  of  yore.  It  is  impossible 
to  tell  how  many  absurdities  are  due  to  this  retrospective  jeal- 
ousy ;  and  in  the  same  way  we  know  nothing  of  the  follies  due 
to  the  covert  rivalry  that  urges  men  to  copy  the  t3rpe  they  have 
set  themselves,  and  exhaust  their  powers  in  shining  with  a  re- 
flected light,  like  the  moon. 

Crevel  was  deputy-mayor  because  his  predecessor  had  been ; 
he  was  major  because  he  coveted  Cesar  Birotteau's  epaulettes. 
In  the  same  way,  struck  by  the  marvels  wrought  by  Grindot 
the  architect,  at  the  time  when  Fortune  had  carried  his  master 
to  the  top  of  the  wheel,  Crevel  had  "  never  looked  at  both 
sides  of  a  crown-piece,"  to  use  his  own  language,  when  he 
wanted  to  "do  up"  his  rooms;  he  had  gone  with  his  purse 
open  and  his  eyes  shut  to  Grindot,  who  by  this  time  was  quite 
forgotten.  It  is  impossible  to  guess  how  long  an  extinct  rep- 
utation may  survive,  supported  by  such  stale  admiration. 

So  Grindot,  for  the  thousandth  time,  had  displayed  his 
white-and-gold  drawing-room  paneled  with  crimson  damask. 
The  furniture,  of  rosewood,  clumsily  carved,  as  such  work  is 
done  for  the  trade,  had  in  the  country  been  the  source  of  just 
pride  in  Paris  workmanship  on  the  occasion  of  an  industrial 
exhibition.  The  candelabra,  the  fire-dogs,  the  fender,  the 
chandelier,  the  clock,  were  all  in  the  most  unmeaning  style  of 
scroll-work ;  the  round  table,  a  fixture  in  the  middle  of  the 
room,  was  a  mosaic  of  fragments  of  Italian  and  antique  mar- 


124  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

bles,  brought  from  Rome,  where  these  dissected  maps  are 
made  of  mineralogical  specimens — for  all  the  world  like 
tailors'  patterns — an  object  of  perennial  adr:iration  to  Crevel's 
citizen  friends.  The  portraits  of  the  late  I.imented  Madame 
Crevel,  of  Crevel  himself,  of  his  daughter  and  his  son-in-law, 
hung  on  the  walls,  tv/o  and  two ;  they  were  the  work  of  Pierre 
Grassou,  the  favored  painter  of  the  bourgeoisie,  to  whom 
Crevel  owed  his  ridiculous  Byronic  attitude.  The  frames, 
costing  a  thousand  francs  each,  were  quite  in  harmony  with 
this  cafe  style,  which  would  have  made  any  true  artist  wince. 

Money  never  yet  missed  the  smallest  opportunity  of  being 
stupid.  We  should  have  in  Paris  ten  Venices  if  our  retired 
merchants  had  had  the  instinct  for  fine  things  characteristic 
of  the  Italians.  Even  in  our  own  day  a  Milanese  merchant 
could  leave  five  hundred  thousand  francs  to  the  Duomo,  to 
regild  the  colossal  statue  of  the  Virgin  that  crowns  the  edifice. 
Canova,  in  his  will,  desired  his  brother  to  build  a  church 
costing  four  million  francs,  and  that  brother  adds  something 
on  his  own  account.  Would  a  citizen  of  Paris — and  they  all, 
like  Rivet,  love  their  Paris  in  their  heart — ever  dream  of 
building  the  spires  that  are  lacking  to  the  towers  of  Notre- 
Dame  ?  And  only  think  of  the  sums  that  revert  to  the  State 
in  property  for  which  no  heirs  are  found. 

All  the  improvements  of  Paris  might  have  been  completed 
with  the  money  spent  on  stucco  castings,  gilt  mouldings,  and 
sham  sculpture  during  the  last  fifteen  years  by  individuals  of 
the  Crevel  stamp. 

Beyond  this  drawing-room  was  a  splendid  boudoir  furnished 
with  tables  and  cabinets  done  in  imitation  of  Boulle. 

The  bedroom,  smart  with  chintz,  also  opened  out  of  the 
drawing-room.  Mahogany  in  all  its  glory  infested  the  dining- 
room,  and  Swiss  views,  gorgeously  framed,  graced  the  panels. 
Crevel,  who  hoped  to  travel  in  Switzerland,  had  set  his  heart 
on  possessing  the  scenery  in  painting  till  the  time  should  come 
when  he  might  see  it  in  reality. 


COUSIN  BETTY.  125 

So,  as  will  have  been  seen,  Crevel,  the  mayor's  deputy,  of 
the  Legion  of  Honor  and  of  the  National  Guard,  had  faithfully 
reproduced  all  the  magnificence,  even  as  to  furniture,  of  his 
luckless  predecessor.  Under  the  Restoration,  where  one  had 
sunk,  this  other,  quite  overlooked,  had  come  to  the  top — not 
by  any  strange  stroke  of  fortune,  but  by  the  force  of  circum- 
stance. In  revolutions,  as  in  storms  at  sea,  solid  treasure  goes 
to  the  bottom,  and  light  trifles  are  floated  to  the  surface. 
Cesar  Birotteau,  a  Royalist,  in  favor  and  envied,  had  been 
made  the  mark  of  bourgeois  hostility,  while  bourgeoisie  trium- 
phant found  its  incarnation  in  Crevel. 

This  apartment,  at  a  rent  of  three  thousand  francs,  crammed 
with  all  the  vulgar  magnificence  that  money  can  buy,  occupied 
the  first  floor  of  a  fine  old  house  between  a  courtyard  and  a 
garden.  Everything  was  as  spick-and-span  as  the  beetles  in 
an  entomological  case,  for  Crevel  lived  very  little  at  home. 

This  gorgeous  residence  was  the  ambitious  citizen's  legal 
domicile.  His  establishment  consisted  of  a  woman-cook  and 
a  valet ;  he  hired  two  extra  men,  and  had  a  dinner  sent  in  by 
Chevet,  whenever  he  gave  a  banquet  to  his  political  friends, 
to  men  he  wanted  to  dazzle,  or  to  a  family  party. 

The  seat  of  Crevel's  real  domesticity,  formerly  in  the  Rue 
Notre-Dame  de  Lorette,  with  Mademoiselle  HeloTse  Brisetout, 
had  lately  been  transferred,  as  we  have  seen,  to  the  Rue  Chau- 
chat.  Every  morning  the  retired  merchant — every  ex-trades- 
man is  a  retired  merchant — spent  two  hours  in  the  Rue  des 
Saussayes  to  attend  to  business,  and  gave  the  rest  of  his  time 
to  Mademoiselle  Zaire,  which  annoyed  Zaire  very  much. 
Orosmanes-Crevel  had  a  fixed  bargain  with  Mademoiselle 
Hcloise ;  she  owed  him  five  hundred  francs'  worth  of  enjoy- 
ment every  month,  and  no  "bills  delivered."  He  paid 
separately  for  his  dinner  and  all  extras.  This  agreement, 
with  certain  bonuses,  for  he  made  her  a  good  many  presents, 
seemed  cheap  to  the  ex-attache  of  the  great  singer ;  and  he 
would  say  to  widowers  who  were  fond  of  their  daughters,  that 


126  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

it  paid  better  to  job  your  horses  than  to  have  a  stable  of  your 
own.  At  the  same  time,  if  the  reader  remembers  the  speech 
made  to  the  baron  by  the  porter  at  the  Rue  Chauchat,  Crevel 
did  not  escape  the  coachman  and  groom. 

Crevel,  as  may  be  seen,  had  turned  his  passionate  affection 
for  his  daughter  to  the  advantage  of  his  self-indulgence.  The 
immoral  aspect  of  the  situation  was  justified  by  the  highest 
morality.  And  then  the  ex-perfumer  derived  from  this  style 
of  living — it  was  the  inevitable,  free-and-easy  life.  Regency, 
Pompadour,  Marechal  de  Richelieu,  what  not — a  certain 
veneer  of  superiority.  Crevel  set  up  for  being  a  man  of  broad 
views,  a  fine  gentleman  with  an  air  and  grace,  a  liberal  man 
with  nothing  narrow  in  his  ideas — and  all  for  the  small  sum 
of  about  twelve  to  fifteen  hundred  francs  a  month.  This  was 
the  result  not  of  hypocritical  policy,  but  of  middle-class 
vanity,  though  it  came  to  the  same  in  the  end. 

On  the  Bourse  Crevel  was  regarded  as  a  man  superior  to  his 
time,  and  especially  as  a  man  of  pleasure,  a  bon  vivant.*  In 
this  particular  Crevel  flattered  himself  that  he  had  overtopped 
his  worthy  friend  Birotteau  by  a  hundred  cubits. 

"And  is  it  you?"  cried  Crevel,  flying  into  a  rage  as  he 
saw  Lisbeth  enter  the  room,  "  who  have  plotted  this  marriage 
between  Mademoiselle  Hulot  and  your  young  count,  whom 
you  have  been  bringing  up  by  hand  for  her  ?  " 

"  You  don't  seem  best  pleased  at  it  ?  "  said  Lisbeth,  fixing 
a  piercing  eye  on  Crevel.  **  What  interest  can  you  have  in 
hindering  my  cousin's  marriage  ?  For  it  was  you,  I  am  told, 
who  hindered  her  marrying  Monsieur  Lebas'  son." 

"You  area  good  soul,  and  to  be  trusted,"  said  Crevel. 
"Well,  then,  do  you  suppose  that  I  will  ever  forgive  Mon- 
sieur Hulot  for  the  crime  of  having  robbed  me  of  Josepha — 
especially  when  he  turned  a  decent  girl,  whom  I  should  have 
married  in  my  old  age,  into  a  good-for-nothing  slut,  a 
mountebank,  an  opera  singer?  No,  no.  Never!  " 
*  Jolly  fellow. 


COUSIN  BETTY.  127 

**  He  is  a  very  good  fellow,  too,  is  Monsieur  Hulot," 
said  Cousin  Betty. 

''Amiable,  very  amiable — too  amiable,"  replied  Crevel. 
"I  wish  him  no  harm;  but  I  do  wish  to  have  my  revenge, 
and  I  will  have  it.     It  is  my  one  idea." 

"And  is  that  desire  the  reason  why  you  no  longer  visit 
Madame  Hulot?" 

"Possibly." 

"Ah,  ha!  then  you  were  courting  my  fair  cousin?"  said 
Lisbeth,  with  a  smile.     "  I  thought  as  much." 

"  And  she  treated  me  like  a  dog  ! — worse,  like  a  footman  ; 
nay,  I  might  say  like  a  political  prisoner.  But  I  will 
succeed  yet,"  said  he,  striking  his  brow  with  his  clenched 
fist. 

"Poor  man!  It  would  be  dreadful  to  catch  his  wife 
deceiving  him  after  being  packed  off  by  his  mistress." 

"  Josepha  ?  ' '  cried  Crevel.  "  Has  Josepha  thrown  him  over, 
packed  him  off,  turned  him  out  neck  and  crop  ?  Bravo,  Josepha, 
you  have  avenged  me  !  I  will  send  you  a  pair  of  pearls  to  hang 
in  your  ears,  my  ex-sweetheart !  I  knew  nothing  of  it ;  for 
after  I  had  seen  you,  on  the  day  after  that  when  the  fair 
Adeline  had  shown  me  the  door,  I  went  to  visit  the  Lebas, 
at  Corbeil,  and  have  but  just  come  back.  Heloise  played  the 
very  devil  to  get  me  into  the  country,  and  I  have  found  out 
the  purpose  of  her  game;  she  wanted  me  out  of  the  way 
while  she  gave  a  house-warming  in  the  Rue  Chauchat,  with 
some  artists,  and  players,  and  writers.  She  took  me  in  ! 
But  I  can  forgive  her,  for  Heloise  amuses  me.  She  is  a 
Dejazet  under  a  bushel.  What  a  character  the  hussy  is ! 
There  is  the  note  I  found  last  evening — 

"  'Dear  old  Chap: — I  have  pitched  my  tent  in  the  Rue 
Chauchat.  I  have  taken  the  precaution  of  getting  a  few 
friends  to  clean  up  the  paint !  All  is  well.  Come  when 
you  please,  monsieur;  Hagar  awaits  her  Abraham.' 


128  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

**  Helo'ise  will  have  some  news  for  me,  for  she  has  her 
bohemia  at  her  fingers'  end." 

"But  Monsieur  Hulot  took  the  disaster  very  calmly,"  said 
Lisbeth. 

"  Impossible  !  "  cried  Crevel,  stopping  in  a  parade  as  regu- 
lar as  the  swing  of  a  pendulum. 

"Monsieur  Hulot  is  not  so  young  as  he  was,"  Lisbeth  re- 
marked significantly. 

"I  know  that,"  said  Crevel,  "but  in  one  point  we  are 
alike  :  Hulot  cannot  do  without  an  attachment.  He  is  capa- 
ble of  going  back  to  his  wife.  It  would  be  a  novelty  for 
him,  but  an  end  to  my  vengeance.  You  smile,  Mademoiselle 
Fischer — ah  !  perhaps  you  know  something." 

"I  am  smiling  at  your  notions,"  replied  Lisbeth.  "Yes, 
my  cousin  is  still  handsome  enough  to  inspire  a  passion.  I 
should  certainly  fall  in  love  with  her  if  I  were  a  man." 

"Cut  and  come  again!"  exclaimed  Crevel.  "You  are 
laughing  at  me.     The  baron  has  already  found  consolation  !  " 

Lisbeth  bowed  affirmatively. 

"  He  is  a  lucky  man  if  he  can  find  a  second  Josepha  within 
twenty-four  hours  !  "  said  Crevel.  "  But  I  am  not  altogether 
surprised,  for  he  told  me  one  evening  at  supper  that  when  he 
was  a  young  man  he  always  had  three  mistresses  on  hand  that 
he  might  not  be  left  high  and  dry — the  one  he  was  giving 
over,  the  one  in  possession,  and  the  one  he  was  courting  for' 
a  future  emergency.  He  had  some  smart  little  workwoman 
in  reserve,  no  doubt — in  his  fish-pond — his  Parc-aux-cerfs ! 
(deer-park).  He  is  very  Louis  XV.,  is  my  gentleman.  He 
is  in  luck  to  be  so  handsome !  However,  he  is  ageing ;  his 
face  shows  it.     He  has  taken  up  with  some  little  milliner?" 

"Dear  me,  no,"  replied  Lisbeth. 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  Crevel,  "  what  would  not  I  do  to  hinder  him 
from  hanging  up  his  hat !  I  could  not  win  back  Josepha ; 
women  of  that  kind  never  come  back  to  their  first  love.  Be- 
side, it  is  truly  said,  such  a  return  is  not  love.     But,  Cousin 


COUSIN  BETTY.  129 

Betty,  I  would  pay  down  fifty  thousand  francs — that  is  to  say, 
I  would  spend  it — to  rob  that  great,  good-looking  fellow  of 
his  mistress,  and  to  show  him  that  a  major  with  a  pot-belly 
and  a  bald  head  made  to  become  Mayor  of  Paris,  though  he 
is  a  grandfather,  is  not  to  have  his  mistress  tickled  away  by  a 
poacher  without  turning  the  tables." 

"My  position,"  said  Lisbeth,  "compels  me  to  hear  every- 
thing and  know  nothing.  You  may  talk  to  me  without  fear ; 
I  never  repeat  a  word  of  what  any  one  may  choose  to  tell  me. 
How  can  you  suppose  I  should  ever  break  that  rule  of  conduct  ? 
No  one  would  ever  trust  me  again." 

"I  know,"  said  Crevel;  "you  are  the  very  jewel  of  old 
maids.  Still,  come,  there  are  exceptions.  Look  here,  the 
family  have  never  settled  an  allowance  on  you  ?  " 

"But  I  have  my  pride,"  said  Lisbeth.  "I  do  not  choose 
to  be  an  expense  to  anybody."  * 

"  If  you  will  but  help  me  to  my  revenge,"  the  tradesman 
went  on,  "I  will  sink  ten  thousand  francs  in  an  annuity  for 
you.  Tell  me,  my  fair  cousin,  tell  me  who  has  stepped  into 
Josepha's  shoes,  and  you  will  have  money  to  pay  your  rent, 
your  little  breakfast  in  the  morning,  the  good  coffee  you  love 
so  well — you  might  allow  yourself  pure  Mocha,  eh  ?  And  a 
very  good  thing  is  pure  Mocha !  " 

"I  do  not  care  so  much  for  the  ten  thousand  francs  in  an 
annuity,  which  would  bring  me  nearly  five  hundred  francs  a 
year,  as  for  absolute  secrecy,"  said  Lisbeth.  "For,  you  see, 
my  dear  Monsieur  Crevel,  the  baron  is  very  good  to  me ;  he 
is  to  pay  my  rent " 

"  Oh  yes,  long  may  that  last !  I  advise  you  to  trust  him," 
cried  Crevel.     "Where  will  he  find  the  money?" 

"  Ah,  that  I  don't  know.  At  the  same  time,  he  is  spending 
more  than  thirty  thousand  francs  on  the  rooms  he  is  furnishing 
for  this  little  lady." 

"A  lady!     What,  a  woman  in  society j  the  rascal,  what 
luck  he  has  !     He  is  the  only  favorite  !  " 
9 


130  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

"A  married  woman,  and  quite  the  lady,"  Lisbeth  affirmed. 

"  Really  and  truly  ?  "  cried  Crevel,  opening  wide  eyes  flash- 
ing with  envy,  quite  as  much  as  at  the  magic  words  "quite 
the  lady." 

'*  Yes,  really,"  said  Lisbeth.  **  Clever,  a  musician,  three- 
and-twenty,  a  pretty,  innocent  face,  a  dazzling  white  skin, 
teeth  like  a  puppy's,  eyes  like  stars,  a  beautiful  forehead — and 
tiny  feet,  I  never  saw  the  like,  they  are  not  wider  than  her 
stay-busk." 

"And  ears?"  asked  Crevel,  keenly  alive  to  this  catalogue 
of  charms. 

"Ears  for  a  model,"  she  replied. 

"And  small  hands?" 

"I  tell  you,  in  two  words,  a  gem  of  a  woman — and  high- 
minded,  and  modest,  and  refined !  A  beautiful  soul,  an  angel 
— and  with  every  distinction,  for  her  father  was  a  marshal 
of  France " 

"  A  marshal  of  France  !  "  shrieked  Crevel,  positively  bound- 
ing with  excitement.  "  Good  heavens !  by  the  Holy  Piper! 
By  all  the  joys  in  Paradise  !  The  rascal ! — I  beg  your  pardon, 
cousin,  I  am  going  crazy  ! — I  think  I  would  give  a  hundred 
thousand  francs " 

"  I  dare  say  you  would,  and,  I  tell  you,  she  is  a  respectable 
woman — a  woman  of  virtue.  The  baron  has  forked  out 
handsomely." 

"  He  has  not  a  sou,  I  tell  you." 

"There  is  a  husband  he  has  pushed " 

"Where  did  he  push  him?"  asked  Crevel,  with  a  bitter 
laugh. 

"He  is  promoted  to  be  second  in  his  office — this  husband 
who  will  oblige,  no  doubt ; — and  his  name  is  down  for  the 
cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor." 

"  The  Government  ought  to  be  judicious  and  respect  those 
who  have  the  cross  by  not  flinging  it  broadcast,"  said  Crevel, 
with  the  look  of  an  aggrieved  politician.    "  But  what  is  there 


COUSIN  BETTY.  131 

about  the  man — that  old  bulldog  of  a  baron  ?"  he  went  on. 
"  It  seems  to  rae  that  I  am  quite  a  match  for  him,"  and  he 
struck  an  attitude  as  he  looked  at  himself  in  the  glass.  '*  Heloise 
has  told  me  many  a  time,  at  moments  when  a  woman  speaks 
the  truth,  that  I  was  wonderful." 

"  Oh,"  said  Lisbeth,  "  women  like  stout  men  ;  they  are  al- 
most always  good-natured ;  and  if  I  had  to  decide  between 
you  and  the  baron,  I  should  choose  you.  Monsieur  Hulot  is 
amusing,  handsome,  and  has  a  figure ;  but  you,  you  are  sub- 
stantial, and  then — you  see — you  look  an  even  greater  scamp 
than  he  does." 

"It  is  incredible  how  all  women,  even  pious  women,  take 
to  men  who  have  that  about  them  ! "  exclaimed  Crevel, 
putting  his  arm  round  Lisbeth's  waist,  he  was  so  jubilant. 

"The  difficulty  does  not  lie  there,"  said  Betty.  "You 
must  see  that  a  woman  who  is  getting  so  many  advantages  will 
not  be  unfaithful  to  her  patron  for  nothing;  and  it  would  cost 
you  more  than  a  hundred-odd  thousand  francs,  for  our  little 
friend  can  look  forward  to  seeing  her  husband  at  the  head  of 
his  office  within  two  years'  time.  It  is  poverty  that  is  dragging 
the  poor  little  angel  into  that  pit." 

Crevel  was  striding  up  and  down  the  drawing-room  in  a 
state  of  frenzy. 

"He  must  be  uncommonly  fond  of  the  woman?"  he  in- 
quired after  a  pause,  while  his  desires,  thus  goaded  by  Lisbeth, 
rose  to  a  sort  of  madness. 

"  You  may  judge  for  yourself,"  replied  Lisbeth,  "  I  don't 
believe  he  has  had  that  of  her,"  said  she,  snapping  her  thumb- 
nail against  one  of  her  enormous  white  teeth,  "  and  he  has 
given  her  ten  thousand  francs'  worth  of  presents  already." 

"  What  a  good  joke  it  would  be  !  "  cried  Crevel,  "  if  I  had 
her  first!" 

"  Good  heavens  !  It  is  too  bad  of  me  to  be  telling  you  all 
this  tittle-tattle,"  said  Lisbeth,  with  an  air  of  compunction. 

"  No.     I  mean  to  put  your  relations  to  the  blush.     To- 


182  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

morrow  I  shall  invest  in  your  name  such  a  sum  in  five-per- 
cents.  as  will  give  you  six  hundred  francs  a  year;  but 
then  you  must  tell  me  everything — his  Dulcinea's  name  and 
residence.  To  you  I  will  make  a  clean  breast  of  it — I  never 
have  had  a  real  lady  for  a  mistress,  and  it  is  the  height  of  my 
ambition.  Mahomet's  houris  are  nothing  in  comparison  with 
what  I  fancy  a  woman  of  fashion  must  be.  In  short,  it  is  my 
dream,  my  mania,  and  to  such  a  point,  that  I  declare  to  you 
the  Baroness  Hulot  to  me  will  never  be  fifty,"  said  he,  un- 
consciously plagiarizing  one  of  the  greatest  wits  of  the  last 
century.  "I  assure  you,  my  good  Lisbeth,  I  am  prepared  to 
sacrifice  a  hundred,  two  hundred — Hush  !  Here  are  the  young 
people,  I  see  them  crossing  the  courtyard.  I  shall  never  have 
learned  anything  through  you,  I  give  you  my  word  of  honor ; 
for  I  do  not  want  you  to  lose  the  baron's  confidence,  quite  the 
contrary.  He  must  be  amazingly  fond  of  this  woman — that 
old  boy." 

"  He  is  crazy  about  her,"  said  Lisbeth.  "  He  could  not 
find  forty  thousand  francs  to  marry  his  daughter  off,  but  he 
has  got  them  somehow  for  his  new  passion." 

"And  do  you  think  that  she  loves  him?" 

"At  his  age !  "  said  the  old  maid. 

"Oh,  what  an  owl  I  am !  "  cried  Crevel,  "when  I  myself 
allowed  Heloise  to  keep  her  artist  exactly  as  Henri  IV. 
allowed  Gabrielle  her  Bellegarde.  Alas !  old  age,  old  age ! 
Good-morning,  Celestine.  How  do,  my  jewel? — and  the 
kid  ?  Ah,  here  he  comes ;  on  my  honor,  he  is  beginning  to 
be  like  me  !  Good-day,  Hulot — quite  well  ?  We  shall  soon 
be  having  another  wedding  in  the  family." 

Celestine  and  her  husband,  as  a  hint  to  their  father,  glanced 
at  the  old  maid,  who  audaciously  asked,  in  reply  to  Crevel — 

"  Indeed — whose  ?  " 

Crevel  put  on  an  air  of  reserve  which  was  meant  to  convey 
that  he  would  make  up  for  her  indiscretions. 

"That  of  Hortense,"  he  replied;  "but  it  is  not  yet  quite 


COUSIN  BETTY.  133 

settled.  I  have  just  come  from  the  Lebas,  and  they  were  talk- 
ing of  Mademoiselle  Popinot  as  a  suitable  match  for  their  son, 
the  young  councilor,  for  he  would  like  to  get  the  presidency 
of  a  provincial  court.     Now,  come  to  dinner." 

By  seven  o'clock  Lisbeth  had  returned  home  in  an  omnibus, 
for  she  was  eager  to  see  Wenceslas,  whose  dupe  she  had  been 
for  three  weeks,  and  to  whom  she  was  carrying  a  basket  filled 
with  fruit  by  the  hands  of  Crevel  himself,  whose  attentions 
were  doubled  toward  his  Cousin  Betty. 

She  flew  up  to  the  attic  at  a  pace  that  took  her  breath  away, 
and  found  the  artist  finishing  the  ornamentation  of  a  box  to 
be  presented  to  his  adored  Hortense.  The  framework  of  the 
lid  represented  hydrangeas — in  French  called  Hortensias — 
among  which  little  Loves  were  playing.  The  poor  lover,  to 
enable  him  to  pay  for  the  materials  of  the  box,  of  which  the 
panels  were  of  malachite,  had  designed  two  candlesticks  for 
Florent  and  Chanor,  and  sold  them  the  copyright — two  admi- 
rable pieces  of  work. 

"You  have  been  working  too  hard  these  last  few  days,  my 
dear  fellow,"  said  Lisbeth,  wiping  the  perspiration  from  his 
brow,  and  giving  him  a  kiss.  "  Such  laborious  diligence  is 
really  dangerous  in  the  month  of  August.  Seriously,  you  may 
injure  your  health.  Look,  here  are  some  peaches  and  plums 
from  Monsieur  Crevel.  Now,  do  not  worry  yourself  so  much ; 
I  have  borrowed  two  thousand  francs,  and,  short  of  some  dis- 
aster, we  can  repay  them  when  you  sell  your  clock.  At  the 
same  time,  the  lender  seems  to  me  suspicious,  for  he  has  just 
sent  in  this  document." 

She  laid  the  writ  under  the  model  sketch  of  the  statue  of 
General  Montcornet. 

**  For  whom  are  you  making  this  pretty  thing?"  said  she, 
taking  up  the  modeled  sprays  of  hydrangea  in  red  wax  which 
Wenceslas  had  laid  down  while  eating  the  fruit. 

**  For  a  jeweler." 


134  THE   POOR   PARENTS. 

**  For  what  jeweler  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know.  Stidmann  asked  me  to  make  something 
out  of  them,  as  he  is  very  busy." 

"But  these,"  she  said  in  a  deep  voice,  "are  Hortensias. 
How  is  it  that  you  have  never  made  anything  in  wax  for  me  ? 
Is  it  so  difficult  to  design  a  pin,  a  little  box — what  not,  as  a 
keepsake?"  and  she  shot  a  fearful  glance  at  the  artist,  whose 
eyes  were  happily  lowered.     "  And  yet  you  say  you  love  me  ?  " 

**  Can  you  doubt  it,  mademoiselle  ?  " 

"  That  is  indeed  an  ardent  '  mademoiselle  ! '  Why,  you 
have  been  my  only  thought  since  I  found  you  dying — ^just 
there.  When  I  saved  you,  you  vowed  you  were  mine.  I 
have  never  held  you  to  that  pledge ;  but  I  made  a  vow  to 
myself!  I  said  to  myself:  *  Since  the  boy  says  he  is  mine,  I 
mean  to  make  him  rich  and  happy  ! '  Well,  and  I  can  make 
your  fortune." 

"How?"  said  the  hapless  artist,  at  the  height  of  joy,  and 
too  artless  to  dream  of  a  snare. 

"Why,  thus,"  said  she. 

Lisbeth  could  not  deprive  herself  of  the  savage  pleasure  of 
gazing  at  Wenceslas,  who  looked  up  at  her  with  filial  affection, 
the  expression  really  of  his  love  for  Hortense,  which  deluded 
the  old  maid.  Seeing  in  a  man's  eyes,  for  the  first  time  in 
her  life,  the  blazing  torch  of  passion,  she  fancied  it  was  for 
her  that  it  was  lighted. 

"  Monsieur  Crevel  will  back  us  to  the  extent  of  a  hundred 
thousand  francs  to  start  a  business,  if,  as  he  says,  you  will 
marry  me.  He  has  queer  ideas,  has  the  worthy  man.  Well, 
what  do  you  say  to  it? "  she  added. 

The  artist,  as  pale  as  the  dead,  looked  at  his  benefactress 
with  a  lustreless  eye,  which  plainly  spoke  his  thoughts.  He 
stood  stupefied  and  open-mouthed. 

"  I  never  before  was  so  distinctly  told  that  I  am  hideous," 
said  she,  with  a  bitter  laugh. 

"Mademoiselle,"   said  Steinbock,   "my  benefactress  can 


COUSIN  BETTY.  135 

never  be  ugly  in  my  eyes ;  I  have  the  greatest  affection  for 
you.     But  I  am  not  yet  thirty,  and " 

"  I  am  forty-three,"  said  Lisbeth.  "  My  cousin  Adeline  is 
forty-eight,  and  men  are  still  madly  in  love  with  her ;  but 
then  she  is  handsome — she  is  !  " 

"  Fifteen  years  between  us,  mademoiselle  !  How  could  we 
get  on  together  !  For  both  our  sakes  I  think  we  should  be 
wise  to  think  it  over.  My  gratitude  shall  be  fully  equal  to 
your  great  kindness.  And  your  money  shall  be  repaid  in  a 
few  days." 

"My  money!"  cried  she.  "You  treat  me  as  if  I  were 
nothing  but  an  unfeeling  usurer." 

"Forgive  me,"  said  Wenceslas,  "but  you  remind  me  of  it 
so  often.  Well,  it  is  you  who  have  made  me ;  do  not  crush 
me. 

"You  mean  to  be  rid  of  me,  I  can  see,"  said  she,  shaking 
her  head.  "  Who  has  endowed  you  with  this  strength  of 
ingratitude — you  who  are  a  man  made  of  papier-mache? 
Have  you  ceased  to  trust  me — your  good  genius? — me,  when  I 
have  spent  so  many  nights  working  for  you — when  I  have 
given  you  every  franc  I  have  saved  in  my  lifetime — when  for 
four  years  I  have  shared  my  bread  with  you,  the  bread  of  a 
hard-worked  woman,  and  given  you  all  I  had,  to  my  very 
courage. ' ' 

"Mademoiselle — no  more,  no  more  !  "  he  cried,  kneeling 
before  her  with  uplifted  hands.  "  Say  not  another  word ! 
In  three  days  I  will  tell  you,  you  shall  know  all.  Let  me,  let 
me  be  happy,"  and  he  kissed  her  hands.  "I  love — and  I  am 
loved." 

"Well,  well,  my  child,  be  happy,"  she  said,  lifting  him 
up.  And  she  kissed  his  forehead  and  hair  with  the  eagerness 
that  a  man  condemned  to  death  must  feel  as  he  lives  through 
the  last  morning. 

"  Ah  !  you  are  of  all  creatures  the  noblest  and  best !  You 
are  a  match  for  the  woman  I  love,"  said  the  poor  artist. 


136  THE  POOR   PARENTS. 

"  I  love  you  well  enough  to  tremble  for  your  future  fate," 
said  she  gloomily.  "Judas  hanged  himself — the  ungrateful 
always  come  to  a  bad  end  !  You  are  deserting  me,  and  you 
will  never  again  do  any  good  work.  Consider  whether,  with- 
out being  married — for  I  know  I  am  an  old  maid,  and  I  do 
not  want  to  smother  the  blossom  of  your  youth,  your  poetry, 
as  you  call  it,  in  my  arms,  that  are  like  vine-stocks — but 
whether,  without  being  married,  we  could  not  get  on  together? 
Listen;  I  have  the  commercial  spirit;  I  could  save  you  a 
fortune  in  the  course  of  ten  years'  work,  for  Economy  is  my 
name  ! — while,  with  a  young  wife,  who  would  be  sheer  Expen- 
diture, you  would  squander  everything ;  you  would  work  only 
to  indulge  her.  But  happiness  creates  nothing  but  memories. 
Even  I,  when  I  am  thinking  of  you,  sit  for  hours  with  my 
hands  in  my  lap 

"Come,  Wenceslas,  stay  with  me.  Look  here,  I  under- 
stand all  about  it :  you  shall  have  your  mistresses ;  pretty  ones 
too,  like  that  little  Marneffe  woman  who  wants  to  see  you, 
and  who  will  give  you  happiness  you  could  never  find  with 
me.  Then,  when  I  have  saved  you  thirty  thousand  francs  a 
year  in  the  Funds " 

"Mademoiselle,  you  are  an  angel,  and  I  shall  never  forget 
this  hour,"  said  Wenceslas,  wiping  away  his  tears. 

"  That  is  how  I  like  to  see  you,  my  child,"  said  she,  gazing 
at  him  with  rapture. 

Vanity  is  so  strong  a  power  in  us  all  that  Lisbeth  believed  in 
her  triumph.  She  had  conceded  so  much  when  offering  him 
Madame  Marneffe.  It  was  the  crowning  emotion  of  her  life; 
for  the  first  time  she  felt  the  full  tide  of  joy  rising  in  her 
heart.  To  go  through  such  an  experience  again  she  would 
have  sold  her  soul  to  the  devil. 

"I  am  engaged  to  be  married,"  Steinbock  replied,  "and 
I  love  a  woman  with  whom  no  other  can  compete  or  compare. 
But  you  are,  and  always  will  be,  to  me  the  mother  I  have 
lost." 


COUSIN  BETTY.  137 

The  words  fell  like  an  avalanche  of  snow  on  a  burning 
crater.  Lisbeth  sat  down.  She  gazed  with  despondent  eyes 
on  the  youth  before  her,  on  his  aristocratic  beauty — the  artist's 
brow,  the  splendid  hair,  everything  that  appealed  to  her  sup- 
pressed feminine  instincts,  and  tiny  tears  moistened  her  eyes 
for  an  instant  and  immediately  dried  up.  She  looked  like 
one  of  those  meagre  statues  which  the  sculptors  of  the  Middle 
Ages  carved  on  monuments. 

"I  cannot  curse  you,"  said  she,  suddenly  rising.  "You 
— you  are  but  a  boy.     God  preserve  you  !  ' ' 

She  went  downstairs  and  shut  herself  into  her  own  room. 

"She  is  in  love  with  me,  poor  creature  !  "  said  Wenceslas 
to  himself.     "And  how  fervently  eloquent !     She  is  crazy." 

This  last  effort  on  the  part  of  an  arid  and  narrow  nature  to 
keep  hold  on  an  embodiment  of  beauty  and  poetry  was,  in 
truth,  so  violent  that  it  can  only  be  compared  to  the  frenzied 
vehemence  of  a  shipwrecked  creature  making  a  last  struggle 
to  reach  the  shore. 

On  the  next  day  but  one,  at  half-past  four  in  the  morning, 
when  Count  Steinbock  was  sunk  in  the  deepest  sleep,  he  heard 
a  knock  at  the  door  of  his  attic  ;  he  rose  to  open  it,  and  saw 
two  men  in  shabby  clothing,  and  a  third,  whose  dress  pro- 
claimed him  a  bailiff  down  on  his  luck. 

"You  are  Monsieur  Wenceslas,  Count  Steinbock?"  said 
this  man. 

"Yes,  monsieur." 

"  My  name  is  Grasset,  sir,  successor  to  Louchard,  sheriff's 
officer " 

"What  then?" 

"  You  are  under  arrest,  sir.  You  must  come  with  us  to 
prison — to  Clichy.  Please  to  get  dressed.  We  have  done 
the  civil,  as  you  see ;  I  have  brought  no  police,  and  there  is  a 
hackney-coach  below." 

"You  are  safely  nabbed,  you  see,"  said  one  of  the  bailiffs ; 
"  and  we  look  to  you  to  be  liberal." 


188  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

Steinbock  dressed  and  went  downstairs,  a  man  holding 
each  arm ;  when  he  was  in  the  cab,  the  driver  started  without 
orders,  as  knowing  where  he  was  to  go,  and  within  half  an 
hour  the  unhappy  foreigner  found  himself  safely  under  bolt 
and  bar  without  even  a  remonstrance,  so  utterly  amazed  was 
he. 

At  ten  o'clock  he  was  sent  for  to  the  prison-office,  where 
he  found  Lisbeth,  who,  in  tears,  gave  him  some  money  to 
feed  himself  adequately  and  to  pay  for  a  room  large  enough 
to  work  in. 

**  My  dear  boy,"  said  she,  "  never  say  a  word  of  your  arrest 
to  anybody,  do  not  write  to  a  living  soul ;  it  would  ruin  you 
for  life ;  we  must  hide  this  blot  on  your  character.  I  will 
soon  have  you  out.  I  will  collect  the  money — be  quite  easy. 
Write  down  what  you  want  for  your  work.  You  shall  soon 
be  free,  or  I  will  die  for  it." 

"Oh,  I  shall  owe  you  my  life  a  second  time!  "  cried  he, 
"for  I  should  lose  more  than  my  life  if  I  were  thought  a  bad 
fellow." 

Lisbeth  went  off  in  great  glee  ;  she  hoped,  by  keeping  her 
artist  under  lock  and  key,  to  put  a  stop  to  his  marriage  by 
announcing  that  he  was  a  married  man,  pardoned  by  the 
efforts  of  his  wife,  and  gone  off  to  Russia. 

To  carry  out  this  plan,  at  about  three  o'clock  she  went  to 
the  baroness,  though  it  was  not  the  day  when  she  was  due  to 
dine  with  her;  but  she  wished  to  enjoy  the  anguish  which 
Hortense  must  endure  at  the  hour  when  Wenceslas  was  in  the 
habit  of  making  his  appearance. 

**  Have  you  come  to  dinner?"  asked  the  baroness,  conceal- 
ing her  disappointment. 

"Well,  yes." 

** That's  well,"  replied  Hortense.  "I  will  go  and  tell 
them  to  be  punctual,  for  you  do  not  like  to  be  kept  waiting." 

Hortense  nodded  reassuringly  to  her  mother,  for  she  in- 
tended to  tell  the  manservant  to  send  away  Monsieur  Stein- 


COUSIN  BETTY.  1S9 

bock  if  he  should  call ;  the  man,  however,  happened  to  be 
out,  so  Hortense  was  obliged  to  give  her  orders  to  the  maid, 
and  the  girl  went  upstairs  to  fetch  her  needlework  and  sit  in 
the  anteroom. 

''And  about  my  lover?"  said  Cousin  Betty  to  Hortense, 
when  the  girl  came  back.     "  You  never  ask  about  him  now?  "  . 

"To  be  sure,  what  is  he  doing?"  said  Hortense.  "He 
has  become  famous.  You  ought  to  be  very  happy,"  she  added 
in  an  undertone  to  Lisbeth.  *'  Everybody  is  talking  of  Mon- 
sieur Wenceslas  Steinbock." 

"A  great  deal  too  much,"  replied  she  in  her  clear  tones. 
"  Monsieur  is  departing.  If  it  were  only  a  matter  of  charming 
him  so  far  as  to  defy  the  attractions  of  Paris,  I  know  my 
power  ;  but  they  say  that  in  order  to  secure  the  services  of  such 
an  artist,  the  Emperor  Nicholas  has  pardoned  him " 

*'  Nonsense  !  "  said  the  baroness. 

"When  did  you  hear  that?"  asked  Hortense,  who  felt  as 
if  her  heart  had  the  cramp. 

"Well,"  said  the  villainous  Lisbeth,  "a  person  to  whom 
he  is  bound  by  the  most  sacred  ties — his  wife — wrote  yesterday 
to  tell  him  so.  He  wants  to  be  off !  Oh,  he  will  be  a  great 
fool  to  give  up  France  to  go  to  Russia " 

Hortense  looked  at  her  mother,  but  her  head  sank  on  one 
side  ;  the  baroness  was  only  just  in  time  to  support  her  daugh- 
ter, who  dropped  fainting,  and  as  white  as  her  lace  kerchief. 

"  Lisbeth  !  you  have  killed  my  child  !  "  cried  the  baroness. 
"  You  were  born  to  be  our  curse  !  " 

"Bless  me!  what  fault  of  mine  is  this,  Adeline?"  replied 
Lisbeth,  as  she  rose  with  a  menacing  aspect,  of  which  the 
baroness,  in  her  alarm,  took  no  notice. 

"I  was  wrong,"  said  Adeline,  supporting  the  girl. 
"Ring." 

At  this  instant  the  door  opened,  the  women  both  looked 
round,  and  saw  Wenceslas  Steinbock,  who  had  been  admitted 
by  the  cook  in  the  maid's  absence. 


140  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

"  Hortense  !  "  cried  the  artist,  with  one  spring  to  the  group 
of  women.  And  he  kissed  his  betrothed  before  her  mother's 
eyes,  on  her  forehead,  and  so  reverently,  that  the  baroness 
could  not  be  angry.  It  was  a  better  restorative  than  any 
smelling  salts.  Hortense  opened  her  eyes,  saw  Wenceslas, 
and  her  color  came  back.  In  a  few  minutes  she  had  quite 
recovered. 

*'  So  this  was  your  secret  ?  "  said  Lisbeth,  smiling  at  Wen- 
ceslas, and  affecting  to  guess  the  facts  from  her  two  cousins' 
confusion. 

"  But  how  did  you  steal  away  my  lover  ?  "  said  she,  leading 
Hortense  into  the  garden. 

Hortense  artlessly  told  the  romance  of  her  love.  Her  father 
and  mother,  she  said,  being  convinced  that  Lisbeth  would 
never  marry,  had  authorized  the  count's  visits.  Only  Hor- 
tense, like  a  full-blown  Agnes,  attributed  to  chance  her  pur- 
chase of  the  group  and  the  introduction  of  the  artist,  who,  by 
her  account,  had  insisted  on  knowing  the  name  of  his  first 
purchaser. 

Presently  Steinbock  came  out  to  join  the  cousins,  and 
thanked  the  old  maid  effusively  for  his  prompt  release.  Lis- 
beth replied  jesuitically  that  the  creditor  having  given  very 
vague  promises,  she  had  not  hoped  to  be  able  to  get  him  out 
before  the  morrow,  and  that  the  person  who  had  lent  her  the 
money,  ashamed,  perhaps,  of  such  mean  conduct,  had  been 
beforehand  with  her.  The  old  maid  appeared  to  be  perfectly 
content,  and  she  congratulated  Wenceslas  on  his  coming  hap- 
piness. 

"  You  bad  boy ! "  said  she,  before  Hortense  and  her  mother, 
"if  you  had  only  told  me  the  evening  before  last  that  you 
loved  my  Cousin  Hortense,  and  that  she  loved  you,  you  would 
have  spared  me  many  tears.  I  thought  that  you  were  desert- 
ing your  old  friend,  your  governess;  while,  on  the  contrary, 
you  are  to  become  my  cousin  ;  henceforth,  you  will  be  con- 
nected with  me,  remotely,  it  is  true,  but  by  ties  that  amply 


COUSIN  BETTY.  141 

justify  the  feelings  I  have  for  you."  And  she  kissed  Wenceslas 
on  the  forehead. 

Hortense  threw  herself  into  Lisbeth's  arms  and  melted  into 
tears. 

*'I  owe  my  happiness  to  you,"  said  she,  "and  I  will  never 
forget  it." 

"Cousin  Betty,"  said  the  baroness,  embracing  Lisbeth  in 
her  excitement  at  seeing  matters  so  happily  settled,  "  the 
baron  and  I  owe  you  a  debt  of  gratitude,  and  we  will  pay  it. 
Come  and  talk  things  over  with  me,"  she  added,  leading  her 
away. 

So  Lisbeth,  to  all  appearance,  was  playing  the  part  of  a 
good  angel  to  the  whole  family ;  she  was  adoispd  by  Crevel 
and  Hulot,  by  Adeline  and  Hortense. 

"  We  wish  you  to  give  up  working,"  said  the  baroness. 
**  If  you  earn  forty  sous  a  day,  Sunday  excepted,  that  makes 
six  hundred  francs  a  year.  Well,  then,  how  much  have  you 
saved?" 

"  Four  thousand  five  hundred  francs." 

"  Poor  Betty  !  "  said  her  cousin. 

She  raised  her  eyes  to  heaven,  so  deeply  was  she  moved  at 
the  thought  of  all  the  labor  and  privation  such  a  sum  must 
represent  accumulated  during  thirty  years. 

Lisbeth,  misundertanding  the  meaning  of  the  exclamation, 
took  it  as  the  ironical  pity  of  the  successful  woman,  and  her 
hatred  was  strengthened  by  a  large  infusion  of  venom  at  the 
very  moment  when  her  cousin  had  cast  off  her  last  shred  of 
distrust  of  the  tyrant  of  her  childhood,  a  distrust  that  had 
been  constantly  strengthened. 

"We  will  add  ten  thousand  five  hundred  francs  to  that 
sum,"  said  Adeline,  "and  put  it  in  trust  so  that  you  shall 
draw  the  interest  for  life,  with  reversion  to  Hortense.  Thus 
you  will  have  six  hundred  francs  a  year." 

Lisbeth  feigned  the  utmost  satisfaction.  When  she  went 
in,  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes,  wiping  away  tears  of  j»y, 


142  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

Hortense  told  her  of  all  the  favors  that  were  being  showered 
on  Wenceslas,  beloved  of  all  the  family. 

So  when  the  baron  came  home,  he  found  his  family  all 
present ;  for  the  baroness  had  formally  accepted  Wenceslas 
by  the  title  of  Son,  and  the  wedding  was  fixed,  if  her  hus- 
band should  approve,  for  a  day  a  fortnight  hence.  The  mo- 
ment he  came  into  the  drawing-room,  Hulot  was  rushed  at 
by  his  wife  and  daughter,  who  ran  to  meet  him,  Adeline  to 
speak  to  him  privately,  and  Hortense  to  kiss  him. 

"  You  have  gone  too  far  in  pledging  me  to  this,  madame," 
said  the  baron  sternly.  "You  are  not  married  yet,"  he 
added,  with  a  look  at  Steinbock,  who  turned  pale. 

''He  has  heard  of  my  imprisonment,"  said  the  luckless 
artist  to  himself. 

''Come,  children,"  said  he-  leading  his  daughter  and  the 
young  man  into  the  garden  ,  they  all  sat  down  on  a  moss- 
eaten  seat  in  the  summer-house. 

"Monsieur  le  Comte,  do  you  love  my  daughter  as  well  as 
I  love  her  mother  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  More,  monsieur,"  said  the  sculptor. 

"  Her  mother  was  a  peasant's  daughter,  and  had  not  a 
centime  of  her  own." 

**  Only  give  me  Mademoiselle  Hortense  just  as  she  is, 
without  a  trousseau  even ' ' 

"  So  I  should  think  !  "  said  the  baron  smiling.  "  Hortense 
is  the  daughter  of  the  Baron  Hulot  d'Ervy,  Councilor  of 
State,  high  up  in  the  War  Office,  Grand  Commander  of 
the  Legion  of  Honor,  and  brother  to  Count  Hulot,  whose 
glory  is  immortal,  and  who  will  ere  long  be  Marshal  of 
France  !     And — she  has  a  marriage  portion." 

"It  is  true,"  said  the  impassioned  artist,  "I  must  seem 
very  ambitious.  But  if  my  dear  Hortense  were  a  laborer's 
daughter,  I  would  marry  her " 

"That  is  just  what  I  wanted  to  know,"  replied  the  baron. 


"COME,   CHILDREN,"  SAID    HE,    LEADING    HIS    DAUGHTER    AND 
THE    YOUNG    MAN    INTO   THE  GARDEN. 


COUSIN  BETTY.  143 

**  Run  away,  Hortense,  and  leave  me  to  talk  business  with 
Monsieur  le  Comte.     He  really  loves  you,  you  see  !  " 

"Oh,  papa,  I  was  sure  you  were  only  in  jest,"  said  the 
happy  girl. 

"  My  dear  Steinbock,"  said  the  baron,  with  elaborate  grace 
of  diction  and  the  most  perfect  manner,  as  soon  as  he  and 
the  artist  were  alone,  "  I  promised  my  son  a  fortune  of  two 
hundred  thousand]  francs,  of  which  the  poor  boy  has  never 
had  a  sou ;  and  he  never  will  get  any  of  it.  My  daughter's 
fortune  will  also  be  two  hundred  thousand  francs,  for  which 
you  will  give  a  receipt " 

"Yes,  Monsieur  le  Baron.' 

"You  go  too  fast,"  said  Hulot.  "  Have  the  goodness  to 
hear  me  out.  I  cannot  expect  from  a  son-in-law  such 
devotion  as  I  look  for  from  my  son.  My  son  knew  exactly 
all  I  could  and  would  do  for  his  future  promotion  :  he  will  be 
a  minister,  and  will  easily  make  good  his  two  hundred  thou- 
sand francs.  But  with  you,  young  man,  matters  are  different. 
I  shall  give  you  a  bond  for  sixty  thousand  francs  in  State 
Funds  at  five  per  cent,  in  your  wife's  name.  This  income 
will  be  diminished  by  a  small  charge  in  the  form  of  an 
annuity  to  Lisbeth ;  but  she  will  not  live  long ;  she  is  con- 
sumptive, I  know.  Tell  no  one ;  it  is  a  secret ;  let  the  poor 
soul  die  in  peace.  My  daughter  will  have  a  trousseau  worth 
twenty  thousand  francs ;  her  mother  will  give  her  six  thou- 
sand francs'  worth  of  diamonds." 

"Monsieur,  you  overpower  me!"  said  Steinbock,  quite 
bewildered. 

"As  to  the  remaining  one  hundred  and  twenty  thousand 
francs " 

"Say  no  more,  monsieur,"  said  Wenceslas.  "I  ask  only 
for  my  beloved  Hortense " 

"  Will  you  listen  to  me,  effervescent  youth !  As  to  the 
remaining  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  francs,  I  have  not 
got  them;  but  you  will  have  them " 


144  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

"Monsieur?" 

"You  will  get  them  from  the  Government,  in  payment  for 
commissions  which  I  will  secure  for  you,  I  pledge  you  my  word 
of  honor.  You  are  to  have  a  studio,  you  see,  at  the  Govern- 
ment depot.  Exhibit  a  few  fine  statues,  and  I  will  get  you 
received  at  the  Institute.  The  highest  personages  have  a  re- 
gard for  my  brother  and  for  me,  and  I  hope  to  succeed  in 
securing  for  you  a  commission  for  sculpture  at  Versailles  up 
to  a  quarter  of  the  whole  sum.  You  will  have  oiders  from 
the  City  of  Paris  and  from  the  Chamber  of  Peers ;  in  short, 
my  dear  fellow,  you  will  have  so  many  that  you  will  be 
obliged  to  get  assistants.  In  that  way  I  shaU  pay  off  my  debt 
to  you.  You  must  say  whether  this  way  of  giving  a  portion 
will  suit  you;  whether  you  are  equal  to  it." 

"  I  am  equal  to  making  a  fortune  for  my  wife  single-handed 
if  all  else  failed  !  "  cried  the  artist-nobleman. 

"That  is  what  I  admire!"  cried  the  baron.  "High- 
minded  youth  that  fears  nothing.  Come,"  he  added,  clasp- 
ing hands  with  the  young  sculptor  to  conclude  the  bargain, 
"  you  have  my  consent.  We  will  sign  the  contract  on  Sunday 
next,  and  the  wedding  shall  be  on  the  following  Saturday,  my 
wife's  fete-day."* 

"It  is  all  right,"  said  the  baroness  to  her  daughter,  who 
stood  glued  to  the  window.  "Your  suitor  and  your  father 
are  embracing  eacti  other." 

On  going  home  in  the  evening,  Wenceslas  found  the  solu- 
tion of  the  mystery  of  his  release.  The  porter  handed  him  a 
thick  sealed  packet,  containing  the  schedule  of  his  debts,  with 
a  signed  receipt  affixed  at  the  bottom  of  the  writ,  and  accom- 
panied by  this  letter : 

"My   dear  Wenceslas: — I  went   to  fetch    you  at   ten 
o'clock  this  morning  to  introduce  you  to  a  royal  highness 
who  wishes  to  see  you.     There  I  learned  that  the  duns  had 
*  Patron  saint's  day. 


COUSIN  BETTY.  145 

had  you  conveyed  to  a  certain  little  domain — chief  town, 
Clichy  Castle. 

"  So  off  I  went  to  Leon  de  Lora,  and  told  him,  for  a  joke, 
that  you  could  not  leave  your  country  quarters  for  lack  of  four 
thousand  francs,  and  that  you  would  spoil  your  future  pros- 
pects if  you  did  not  make  your  bow  to  your  royal  patron. 
Happily,  Bridau  was  there — a  man  of  genius,  who  has  known 
what  it  is  to  be  poor,  and  has  heard  your  story.  My  boy, 
between  them  they  have  found  the  money,  and  I  went  off  to 
pay  the  Turk  who  committed  treason  against  genius  by  put- 
ting you  in  quod.  As  I  had  to  be  at  the  Tuileries  at  noon,  I 
could  not  wait  to  see  you  sniffing  the  outer  air.  I  know  you 
to  be  a  gentleman,  and  I  answered  for  you  to  my  two  friends 
— but  look  them  up  to-morrow. 

"  Leon  and  Bridau  do  not  want  your  cash ;  they  will  ask 
you  to  do  them  each  a  group — and  they  are  right.  At  least, 
so  thinks  the  man  who  wishes  he  could  sign  himself  your  rival, 
but  is  only  your  faithful  ally, 

"  Stidmann. 

"  P.  S. — I  told  the  Prince  you  were  away,  and  would  not 
return  till  to-morrow,  so  he  said,  'Very  good — to-morrow.'  " 

Count  Wenceslas  went  to  bed  in  the  sheets  of  purple,  with- 
out a  rose-leaf  to  wrinkle  them,  that  Favor  can  make  for  us — 
Favor,  the  halting  divinity  who  moves  more  slowly  for  men 
of  genius  than  either  Justice  or  Fortune,  because  Jove  has  not 
chosen  to  bandage  her  eyes.  Hence,  lightly  deceived  by  the 
display  of  impostors,  and  attracted  by  their  frippery  and 
trumpets,  she  spends  the  time  in  seeing  them  and  the  money 
in  paying  them  which  she  ought  to  devote  to  seeking  out  men 
of  merit  in  the  nooks  where  they  hide. 

It  will  now  be  necessary  to  explain  how  Monsieur  le  Baron 

Hulot  had  contrived  to  count  up  his  expenditure  on  Hortense's 

wedding  portion,  and  at  the  same  time  to  defray  the  frightful 

cost  of  the  charming  rooms  where  Madame  Marneffe  was  to 

10 


146  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

make  her  home.  His  financial  scheme  bore  that  stamp  of 
talent  which  leads  prodigals  and  men  in  love  into  the  quag- 
mires where  so  many  disasters  await  them.  Nothing  can 
demonstrate  more  completely  the  strange  capacity  communi- 
cated by  vice,  to  which  we  owe  the  strokes  of  skill  which 
ambitious  or  voluptuous  men  can  occasionally  achieve — or, 
in  short,  any  of  the  devil's  pupils. 

On  the  day  before,  old  Johann  Fischer,  unable  to  pay  thirty 
thousand  francs  drawn  for  on  him  by  his  nephew,  had  found 
himself  under  the  necessity  of  stopping  payment  unless  the 
baron  could  remit  the  sum. 

This  ancient  worthy,  with  the  white  hairs  of  seventy  years, 
had  such  blind  confidence  in  Hulot — who,  to  the  old  Bona- 
partist,  was  an  emanation  from  the  Napoleonic  sun — that  he 
was  calmly  pacing  his  anteroom  with  the  bank  clerk,  in  the 
little  first-floor  apartment  that  he  rented  for  eight  hundred 
francs  a  year  as  the  headquarters  of  his  extensive  dealings  in 
corn  and  forage. 

**  Marguerite  is  gone  to  fetch  the  money  from  close  by," 
said  he. 

The  official,  in  his  gray  uniform  braided  with  silver,  was  so 
convinced  of  the  old  Alsatian's  honesty,  that  he  was  prepared 
to  leave  the  thirty  thousand  francs'  worth  of  bills  in  his  hands; 
but  the  old  man  would  not  let  him  go,  observing  that  the 
clock  had  not  yet  struck  eight.  A  cab  drew  up,  the  old  man 
rushed  into  the  street,  and  held  out  his  hand  to  the  baron  with 
sublime  confidence — Hulot  handed  him  out  thirty  thousand- 
franc  notes. 

"  Go  on  three  doors  farther,  and  I  will  tell  you  why,"  said 
Fischer. 

"Here,  young  man,"  he  said,  returning  to  count  out  the 
money  to  the  bank  emissary,  whom  he  then  saw  to  the  outer 
door. 

When  the  clerk  was  out  of  sight,  Fischer  called  back  the 


COUSIN  BETTY.  147 

nack  containing  his  august  nephew,  Napoleon's  right  hand, 
and  said,  as  he  led  him  into  the  house — 

"You  do  not  want  them  to  know  at  the  Bank  of  France 
that  you  paid  me  the  thirty  thousand  francs,  after  endorsing 
the  bills  ?  It  was  bad  enough  to  see  them  signed  by  such  a 
man  as  you  ! " 

"  Come  to  the  bottom  of  your  little  garden.  Father  Fischer," 
said  the  important  man.  "You  are  hearty!"  he  went  on, 
sitting  down  under  a  vine  arbor  and  scanning  the  old  man 
from  head  to  foot,  as  a  dealer  in  human  flesh  scans  a  substitute 
for  the  conscription. 

"Ay,  hearty  enough  for  a  tontine,"  said  the  lean  little  old 
man  ;  his  sinews  were  wiry,  and  his  eye  bright. 

"  Does  heat  disagree  with  you?  " 

"Quite  the  contrary." 

"  What  do  you  say  to  Africa?  " 

"  A  very  nice  country  !  The  French  went  there  with  the 
Little  Corporal"  (Napoleon). 

"  To  get  us  all  out  of  the  present  scrape,  you  must  go  to 
Algiers,"  said  the  baron. 

"And  how  about  my  business?  " 

"An  official  in  the  War  Office,  who  has  to  retire,  and  has 
not  enough  to  live  on  with  his  pension,  will  buy  your  busi- 
ness." 

"And  what  am  I  to  do  in  Algiers?  " 

"Supply  the  commissariat  with  victuals,  corn,  and  forage; 
I  have  your  commission  ready  filled  in  and  signed.  You  can 
collect  supplies  in  the  country  at  seventy  per  cent,  below  the 
prices  at  which  you  can  credit  us." 

"  How  shall  we  get  them  ?  " 

"  Oh,  by  raids,  by  taxes  in  kind,  and  the  Khaliphat.  The 
country  is  little  known,  though  we  settled  there  eight  years 
ago ;  Algeria  produces  vast  quantities  of  corn  and  forage. 
When  this  produce  belongs  to  Arabs,  we  take  it  from  them 
under  various  pretenses ;  when  it  belongs  to  us,  the  Arabs  try 


148  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

to  get  it  back  again.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  fighting  over 
the  corn,  and  no  one  ever  knows  exactly  how  much  each  party 
has  stolen  from  the  other.  There  is  not  time  in  the  open  field 
to  measure  the  corn  as  we  do  in  the  Paris  market,  or  the  hay 
as  it  is  sold  in  the  Rue  d'Enfer.  The  Arab  chiefs,  like  our 
Spahis,  prefer  hard  cash,  and  sell  the  plunder  at  a  very  low 
price.  The  commissariat  needs  a  fixed  quantity,  and  must 
have  it.  It  winks  at  exorbitant  prices  calculated  on  the  dif- 
ficulty of  procuring  food,  and  the  dangers  to  which  every  form 
of  transport  is  exposed.  That  is  Algiers  from  the  army  con- 
tractor's point  of  view. 

"It  is  a  muddle  tempered  by  the  ink-bottle,  like  every  in- 
cipient government.  We  shall  not  see  our  way  through  it  for 
another  ten  years — we  who  have  to  do  the  governing;  but 
private  enterprise  has  sharp  eyes.  So  I  am  sending  you  there 
to  make  a  fortune ;  I  give  you  the  job,  as  Napoleon  put  an 
impoverished  marshal  at  the  head  of  a  kingdom  where  smug- 
gling might  be  secretly  encouraged. 

"I  am  ruined,  my  dear  Fischer;  I  must  have  a  hundred 
thousand  francs  within  a  year." 

*'  I  see  no  harm  in  getting  it  out  of  the  Bedouins,"  said  the 
Alsatian  calmly.  "It  was  always  done  under  the  Em- 
pire  " 

"  The  man  who  wants  to  buy  your  business  will  be  here  this 
morning,  and  pay  you  ten  thousand  francs  down,"  the  baron 
went  on.  "  That  will  be  enough,  I  suppose,  to  take  you  to 
Africa?" 

The  old  man  nodded  assent. 

"As  to  capital  out  there,  be  quite  easy.  I  will  draw  the 
remainder  of  the  money  due  if  I  find  it  necessary." 

"All  I  have  is  yours — my  very  blood,"  said  old  Fischer. 

"Oh,  do  not  be  uneasy,"  said  Hulot,  fancying  that  his 
uncle  saw  more  clearly  than  was  the  fact.  "As  to  our  excise 
dealings,  your  character  will  not  be  impugned.  Everything 
depends  on  the  authority  at  your  back ;  now  I  myself  ap- 


COUSIN  BETTY.  149 

pointed  the  authorities  out  there  j  I  am  sure  of  them.  This, 
Uncle  Fischer,  is  a  dead  secret  between  us.  I  know  you  well, 
and  I  have  spoken  out  without  concealment  or  circumlocu- 
tion." 

"It  shall  be  done,"  said  the  old  man.  "And  it  will  go 
on ?" 

"  For  two  years.  You  will  have  made  a  hundred  thousand 
francs  of  your  own  to  live  happy  on  in  the  Vosges. ' ' 

"  I  will  do  as  you  wish;  my  honor  is  yours,"  said  the  little 
old  man  quietly. 

"  That  is  the  sort  of  man  I  like.  However,  you  must  not 
go  till  you  have  seen  your  grand-niece  happily  married.  She 
is  to  be  a  countess." 

But  even  taxes  and  raids  and  the  money  paid  by  the  War 
Office  clerk  for  Fischer's  business  could  not  forthwith  provide 
sixty  thousand  francs  to  give  to  Hortense,  to  say  nothing  of 
her  trousseau,  which  was  to  cost  about  five  thousand,  and  the 
forty  thousand  spent — or  to  be  spent — on  Madame  MarnefFe. 

Where,  then,  had  the  baron  found  the  thirty  thousand  francs 
he  had  just  produced  ?     This  was  the  history : 

A  few  days  previously  Hulot  had  insured  his  life  for  the 
sum  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  francs,  for  three  years, 
in  two  separate  companies.  Armed  with  the  policies,  of  which 
he  paid  the  premium,  he  had  spoken  as  follows  to  the  Baron 
de  Nucingen,  a  peer  of  the  Chamber,  in  whose  carriage  he 
found  himself  after  a  sitting,  driving  home,  in  fact,  to  dine 
with  him : 

"  Baron,  I  want  seventy  thousand  francs,  and  I  apply  to 
you.  You  must  find  some  one  to  lend  his  name,  to  whom  I 
will  make  over  the  right  to  draw  my  pay  for  three  years ;  it 
amounts  to  twenty-five  thousand  francs  a  year — that  is,  seventy- 
five  thousand  francs.  You  will  say,  '  But  you  may  die  '  " — the 
banker  signified  his  assent.  "  Here,  then,  is  a  policy  of  in- 
surance for  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  francs,  which  I  will 
deposit  with  you  till  you  have  drawn  up  to  eighty  thousand 


150  THE   POOR  PARENTS. 

francs,"  said  Hulot,  producing  the  document  from  an  inner 
pocket. 

"But  if  you  should  lose  your  place?"  said  the  millionaire 
baron,  laughing. 

The  other  baron — not  a  millionaire — looked  grave. 

"Be  quite  easy;  I  only  raised  the  question  to  show  you 
that  I  was  not  devoid  of  merit  in  handing  you  the  sura. 
Are  you  so  very  short  of  cash  ?  for  the  bank  will  take  your 
signature. ' ' 

"  My  daughter  is  to  be  married,"  said  Baron  Hulot,  "and 
I  have  no  fortune — like  every  one  else  who  remains  in  office 
in  these  thankless  times,  when  five  hundred  ordinary  men 
seated  on  benches  will  never  reward  the  men  who  devote 
themselves  to  the  service  as  handsomely  as  the  Emperor  did." 

"Well,  well;  but  you  had  Josepha  on  your  hands!"  re- 
plied Nucingen,  "and  that  accounts  for  everything.  Between 
ourselves,  the  Due  d'Herouville  has  done  you  a  very  good 
turn  by  removing  that  leech  from  sucking  your  purse  dry.  *  I 
have  known  what  it  is,  and  can  pity  your  case,*  "  he  quoted. 
" Take  a  friend's  advice:  Shut  up  shop,  or  you  will  be  done 
for." 

This  dirty  business  was  carried  out  in  the  name  of  one 
Vauvinet,  a  small  money-lender ;  one  of  those  jobbers  who 
stand  forward  to  screen  great  banking  houses,  like  the  little 
fish  that  is  said  to  attend  the  shark.  This  stock-jobber's 
apprentice  was  so  anxious  to  gain  the  patronage  of  Monsieur 
le  Baron  Hulot  that  he  promised  the  great  man  to  negotiate 
bills  of  exchange  for  thirty  thousand  francs  at  eighty  days, 
and  pledged  himself  to  renew  them  four  times,  and  never  pass 
them  out  of  his  hands. 

Fischer's  successor  was  to  pay  forty  thousand  francs  for  the 
house  and  business,  with  the  promise  that  he  should  supply 
forage  to  a  department  close  to  Paris. 

This  was  the  desperate  maze  of  affairs  into  which  a  man 
who  had  hitherto  been  absolutely  honest  was  led  by  his  pas- 


COUSIN  BETTY.  151 

sions — one  of  the  best  administrative  officials  under  Napoleon 
— peculation  to  pay  the  money-lenders,  and  borrowing  of  the 
money-lenders  to  gratify  his  passions  and  provide  for  his 
daughter.  All  the  efforts  of  this  elaborate  prodigality  were 
directed  to  making  a  display  before  Madame  Marneffe,  and  to 
playing  Jupiter  to  this  middle-class  Danae.  A  man  could  not 
expend  more  activity,  intelligence,  and  presence  of  mind  in 
the  honest  acquisition  of  a  fortune  than  the  baron  displayed  in 
shoving  his  head  into  a  wasp's  nest :  He  did  all  the  business 
of  his  department,  he  hurried  on  the  upholsterers,  he  talked 
to  the  workmen,  he  kept  a  sharp  lookout  on  the  smallest  de- 
tails of  the  house  in  the  Rue  Vanneau.  Wholly  devoted  to 
Madame  Marneffe,  he  nevertheless  attended  the  sittings  of  the 
Chambers ;  he  was  everywhere  at  once,  and  neither  his  family 
nor  anybody  else  discovered  where  his  thoughts  were. 

Adeline,  quite  amazed  to  hear  that  her  uncle  was  rescued, 
and  to  see  a  handsome  sum  figure  in  the  marriage-contract, 
was  not  altogether  easy,  in  spite  of  her  joy  at  seeing  her 
daughter  married  under  such  creditable  circumstances.  But, 
on  the  day  before  the  wedding,  fixed  by  the  baron  to  coincide 
with  Madame  Marneffe's  removal  to  her  new  apartment. 
Hector  allayed  his  wife's  astonishment  by  this  ministerial 
communication  : 

"  Now,  Adeline,  our  girl  is  married ;  all  our  anxieties  on 
that  subject  are  at  an  end.  The  time  is  come  for  us  to  retire 
from  the  world :  I  shall  not  remain  in  office  more  than  three 
years  longer — only  the  time  necessary  to  secure  my  pension. 
Why,  henceforth,  should  we  be  at  any  unnecessary  expense? 
Our  apartment  costs  us  six  thousand  francs  a  year  in  rent,  we 
have  four  servants,  we  eat  thirty  thousand  francs'  worth  of 
food  in  the  year.  If  you  want  me  to  pay  off  my  bills — for  I 
have  pledged  my  salary  for  the  sums  I  needed  to  give  Hor- 
tense  her  little  money,  and  pay  off  your  uncle " 

**  You  did  very  right !  "  said  she,  interrupting  her  husband, 
and  kissing  his  hands. 


162  THE  POOR   PARENTS. 

This  explanation  relieved  Adeline  of  all  her  fears. 

"  I  shall  have  to  ask  some  little  sacrifices  of  you,"  he  went 
on,  disengaging  his  hands  and  kissing  his  wife's  brow.  **  I 
have  found  in  the  Rue  Plumet  a  very  good  flat  on  the  second 
floor,  handsome,  splendidly  paneled,  at  only  fifteen  hundred 
francs  a  year,  where  you  would  only  need  one  woman  to  wait 
on  you,  and  I  could  be  quit©  content  with  a  boy." 

"Yes,  my  dear." 

"If  we  keep  house  in  a  quiet  way,  keeping  up  a  proper 
appearance  of  course,  we  should  not  spend  more  than  six 
thousand  francs  a  year,  excepting  my  private  account,  which 
I  will  provide  for." 

The  generous-hearted  woman  threw  her  arms  round  her 
husband's  neck  in  her  joy. 

**  How  happy  I  shall  be,  beginning  again  to  show  you  how 
truly  I  love  you!"  she  exclaimed.  "And  what  a  capital 
manager  you  are  ! ' ' 

"We  will  have  the  children  to  dine  with  us  once  a  week. 
I,  as  you  know,  rarely  dine  at  home.  You  can  very  well  dine 
twice  a  week  with  Victorin  and  twice  a  week  with  Hortense. 
And,  as  I  believe,  I  may  succeed  in  making  matters  up  com- 
pletely between  Crevel  and  us;  we  can  dine  once  a  week  with 
him.  These  five  dinners  and  our  own  at  home  will  fill  up  the 
week  all  but  one  day,  supposing  that  we  may  occasionally  be 
invited  to  dine  elsewhere. ' ' 

**  I  shall  save  a  great  deal  for  you,"  said  Adeline. 

"  Oh  !  "  he  cried,  "  you  are  the  pearl  of  women  !  " 

"  My  kind,  divine  Hector,  I  shall  bless  you  with  ray  last 
breath,"  said  she,  "for  you  have  done  well  for  my  dear 
Hortense." 

This  was  the  beginning  of  the  end  of  the  beautiful  Madame 
Hulot's  home ;  and,  it  may  be  added,  of  her  being  totally 
neglected,  as  Hulot  had  solemnly  promised  Madame  Marneffe. 

Crevel,  the  important  and  burly,  being  invited  as  a  matter 
of  course  to  the  party  given  for  the  signing  of  the  marriage- 


COUSIN  BETTY.  153 

contract,  behaved  as  though  the  scene  with  which  this  drama 
opened  had  never  taken  place,  as  though  he  had  no  grievance 
against  the  baron,  Celestin  Crevel  was  quite  amiable ;  he  was 
perhaps  rather  too  much  the  ex-perfumer,  but  as  a  major  he 
was  beginning  to  acquire  majestic  dignity.  He  talked  of 
dancing  at  the  wedding. 

"Fair  lady,"  said  he  politely  to  the  baroness,  "people  like 
us  know  how  to  forget.  Do  not  banish  me  from  your  home; 
honor  me,  pray,  by  gracing  my  house  with  your  presence  now 
and  then  to  meet  your  children.  Be  quite  easy ;  I  will  never 
say  anything  of  what  lies  buried  at  the  bottom  of  my  heart. 
I  behaved,  indeed,  like  an  idiot,  for  I  should  lose  too  much 
by  cutting  myself  off  from  seeing  you." 

"  Monsieur,  an  honest  woman  has  no  ears  for  such  speeches 
as  those  you  refer  to.  If  you  keep  your  word,  you  need  not 
doubt  that  it  will  give  me  pleasure  to  see  the  end  of  a  coolness 
which  must  always  be  painful  in  a  family." 

"Well,  you  sulky  old  fellow,"  said  Hulot,  dragging  Crevel 
out  into  the  garden,  "  you  avoid  me  everywhere,  even  in  my 
own  house.  Are  two  admirers  of  the  fair  sex  to  quarrel  for 
ever  over  a  petticoat  ?     Come  ;  that  is  really  too  plebeian  !  " 

"  I,  monsieur,  am  not  such  a  fine  man  as  you  are,  and  my 
small  attractions  hinder  me  from  repairing  my  losses  so  easily 
as  you  can " 

"  Sarcastic  !  "  said  the  baron. 

*'  Irony  is  allowable  from  the  vanquished  to  the  conqueror." 

The  conversation,  begun  in  this  strain,  ended  in  a  complete 
reconciliation  j  still  Crevel  maintained  his  right  to  take  his 
revenge. 

Madame  Mameffe  particularly  wished  to  be  invited  to  Made- 
moiselle Hulot's  wedding.  To  enable  him  to  receive  his  future 
mistress  in  his  drawing-room,  the  great  official  was  obliged  to 
invite  all  the  clerks  of  his  division  down  to  the  deputy  head- 
clerks  inclusive.     Thus  a  grand  ball  was  a  necessity.     The 


154  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

baroness,  as  a  prudent  housewife,  calculated  that  an  evening 
party  would  cost  less  than  a  dinner,  and  allow  of  a  larger  num- 
ber of  invitations;  so  Hortense's  wedding  was  much  talked 
about. 

Marshal  Prince  Wissembourg  and  the  Baron  de  Nucingen 
signed  in  behalf  of  the  bride,  the  Comtes  de  Rastignac  and 
Popinot  in  behalf  of  Steinbock.  Then,  as  the  highest  nobility 
among  the  Polish  emigrants  had  been  civil  to  Count  Stein- 
bock since  he  had  become  famous,  the  artist  thought  himself 
bound  to  invite  them.  The  State  Council,  and  the  War  Office 
to  which  the  baron  belonged,  and  the  army,  anxious  to  do 
honor  to  the  Comte  de  Forzheim,  were  all  represented  by 
their  magnates.  There  were  nearly  two  hundred  indispens- 
able invitations.  How  natural,  then,  that  little  Madame 
Marneffe  was  bent  on  figuring  in  all  her  glory  amid  such  an 
assembly.  The  baroness  had,  a  month  since,  sold  her  dia- 
monds to  set  up  her  daughter's  house,  while  keeping  the  finest 
for  the  trousseau.  The  sale  realized  fifteen  thousand  francs, 
of  which  five  thousand  were  sunk  in  Hortense's  clothes. 
And  what  was  ten  thousand  francs  for  the  furniture  of  the 
young  folks'  apartment,  considering  the  demands  of  modern 
luxury?  However,  young  Monsieur  and  Madame  Hulot,  old 
Crevel,  and  the  Comte  de  Forzheim  made  very  handsome 
presents,  for  the  old  soldier  had  set  aside  a  sum  for  the  pur- 
chase of  plate.  Thanks  to  these  contributions,  even  an  ex- 
acting Parisian  would  have  been  pleased  with  the  rooms  the 
young  couple  had  taken  in  the  Rue  Saint-Dominique,  near  the 
Invalides.  Everything  seemed  in  harmony  with  their  love; 
pure,  honest,  and  sincere. 

At  last  the  great  day  dawned — for  it  was  to  be  a  great  day 
not  only  for  Wenceslas  and  Hortense,  but  for  old  Hulot  too. 
Madame  Marneffe  was  to  give  a  house-warming  in  her  new 
apartment  the  day  after  becoming  Hulot's  mistress  en  titre,^ 
and  after  the  marriage  of  the  lovers. 

*  By  title ;  or  acknowledged. 


COUSIN  BETTY.  155 

Who  but  has  once  in  his  life  been  a  guest  at  a  wedding-ball? 
Every  reader  can  refer  to  his  reminiscences,  and  will  probably 
smile  as  he  calls  up  the  images  of  all  that  company  in  their 
Sunday-best  faces  as  well  as  their  finest  frippery. 

If  any  social  event  can  prove  the  influence  of  environment, 
is  it  not  this  ?  In  fact,  the  Sunday-best  mood  of  some  reacts  so 
effectually  on  the  rest  that  the  men  who  are  most  accustomed 
to  wearing  full  dress  look  just  like  those  to  whom  the  party 
is  a  high  festival,  unique  in  their  life.  And  think,  too,  of  the 
serious  old  men  to  whom  such  things  are  so  completely  a  mat- 
ter of  indifference,  that  they  are  wearing  their  every-day  black 
coats;  the  long-married  men,  whose  faces  betray  their  sad  ex- 
perience of  the  life  the  young  pair  are  but  just  entering  on  ; 
and  the  lighter  elements,  present  as  carbonic-acid  gas  is  in 
champagne;  and  the  envious  girls,  the  women  absorbed  in 
wondering  if  their  dress  is  a  success,  the  poor  relations  whose 
parsimonious  "get-up"  contrasts  with  that  of  the  officials  in 
uniform ;  and  the  greedy  ones,  thinking  only  of  the  supper ; 
and  the  gamblers,  thinking  only  of  cards. 

There  are  some  of  every  sort,  rich  and  poor,  envious  and 
envied,  philosophers  and  dreamers,  all  grouped  like  the  plants 
in  a  flower-bed  round  the  rare,  choice  blossom,  the  bride.  A 
wedding-ball  is  an  epitome  of  the  world. 

At  the  liveliest  moment  of  the  evening  Crevel  led  the  baron 
aside,  and  said  in  a  whisper,  with  the  most  natural  manner 
possible — 

*'  By  Jove  !  that's  a  pretty  woman — the  little  lady  in  pink 
who  has  opened  a  raking  fire  on  you  from  her  eyes." 

"Which?" 

*'  The  wife  of  that  clerk  you  are  promoting,  heaven  knows 
how!     Madame  Marneffe." 

**  "Wliat  do  you  know  about  it  ?  " 

"Listen,  Hulot ;  I  will  try  to  forgive  you  the  ill  you  have 
done  me  if  only  you  will  introduce  me  to  her — I  will  take  you 
to  HeloTse.     Everybody  is  asking  who  is  that  charming  crea- 


156  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

ture.  Are  you  sure  that  it  will  strike  no  one  how  and  why 
her  husband's  appointment  got  itself  signed?  You  happy 
rascal,  she  is  worth  a  whole  office.  I  would  serve  in  her  office 
only  too  gladly.     Come,  Cinna,  let  us  be  friends." 

**  Better  friends  than  ever,"  said  the  baron  to  the  perfumer, 
**  and  I  promise  you  I  will  be  a  good  fellow.  Within  a  month 
you  shall  dine  with  that  little  angel.  For  it  is  an  angel  this 
time,  old  boy.  And  I  advise  you,  like  me,  to  have  done  with 
the  devils." 

Cousin  Betty,  who  had  moved  to  the  Rue  Vanneau,  into  a 
nice  little  apartment  on  the  fourth  floor,  left  the  ball  at  ten 
o'clock,  but  came  back  to  see  with  her  own  eyes  the  two 
bonds  bearing  twelve  hundred  francs'  interest ;  one  of  them 
was  the  property  of  the  Countess  Steinbock;  the  other  was  in 
the  name  of  young  Madame  Hulot. 

It  is  thus  intelligible  that  Monsieur  Crevel  should  have 
spoken  to  Hulot  about  Madame  MarnefFe,  as  knowing  what 
was  a  secret  to  the  rest  of  the  world ;  for,  as  Monsieur  Mar- 
neffe  was  away,  no  one  but  Lisbeth  Fischer,  beside  the  baron 
and  Valerie,  was  initiated  into  the  mystery. 

The  baron  had  made  a  blunder  in  giving  Madame  Marneffe 
a  dress  far  too  magnificent  for  the  wife  of  a  subordinate 
official ;  other  women  were  jealous  alike  of  her  beauty  and  of 
her  gown.  There  was  much  whispering  behind  fans,  for  the 
poverty  of  the  Marneffes  was  known  to  every  one  in  the  office ; 
the  husband  had  been  petitioning  for  help  at  the  very  moment 
when  the  baron  had  been  so  smitten  with  madame.  Also, 
Hector  could  not  conceal  his  exultation  at  seeing  Valerie's 
success ;  and  she,  severely  proper,  very  lady-like,  and  greatly 
envied,  was  the  object  of  that  strict  examination  which  women 
so  greatly  fear  when  they  appear  for  the  first  time  in  a  new 
circle  of  society. 

After  seeing  his  wife  into  a  carriage  with  his  daughter  and 
his  son-in-law,  Hulot  managed  to  escape  unperceived,  leaving 
his  son  and  C6lestine  to  do  the  honors  of  the  house.     He  got 


COUSIN  BETTY.  IST 

into  Madame  Marneffe's  carriage  to  see  her  home,  but  he 
found  her  silent  and  pensive,  almost  melancholy. 

"  My  happiness  makes  you  very  sad,  Valerie,"  said  he,  put- 
ting his  arm  round  her  and  drawing  her  to  him. 

"Can  you  wonder,  ray  dear,"  said  she,  "that  a  hapless 
woman  should  be  a  little  depressed  at  the  thought  of  her  first 
fall  from  virtue,  even  when  her  husband's  atrocities  have  set 
her  free  ?  Do  you  suppose  that  I  have  no  soul,  no  beliefs,  no 
religion  ?  Your  glee  this  evening  has  been  really  too  bare- 
faced ;  you  have  paraded  me  odiously.  Really,  a  schoolboy 
would  have  been  less  of  a  coxcomb.  And  the  ladies  have 
dissected  me  with  their  side-glances  and  their  satirical  remarks. 
Every  woman  has  some  care  for  her  reputation,  and  you  have 
wrecked  mine. 

"Oh,  I  am  yours  and  no  mistake!  And  I  have  not  an 
excuse  left  but  that  of  being  faithful  to  you.  Monster  that 
you  are  !  "  she  added,  laughing,  and  allowing  him  to  kiss  her, 
"  you  knew  very  well  what  you  were  doing !  Madame 
Coquet,  our  chief  clerk's  wife,  came  to  sit  down  by  me,  and 
admired  my  lace.  *  English  point ! '  said  she.  *  Was  it  very 
expensive,  madame?'  'I  do  not  know.  This  lace  was  my 
mother's.     I  am  not  rich  enough  to  buy  the  like,'  said  I." 

Madame  Marneffe,  in  short,  had  so  bewitched  the  old  beau 
that  he  really  believed  she  was  sinning  for  the  first  time  for 
his  sake,  and  that  he  had  inspired  such  a  passion  as  had  led 
her  to  this  breach  of  duty.  She  told  him  that  the  wretch 
Marneffe  had  neglected  her  after  they  had  been  three  days 
married,  and  for  the  most  odious  reasons.  Since  then  she  had 
lived  as  innocently  as  a  girl ;  marriage  had  seemed  to  her  so 
horrible.     This  was  the  cause  of  her  present  melancholy. 

"  If  love  should  prove  to  be  like  marriage "  said  she  in 

tears. 

These  insinuating  lies,  with  which  almost  every  woman  in 
Valerie's  predicament  is  ready,  gave  the  baron  distant  visions 
of  the  roses  of  the  seventh  heaven.     And  so  Valdrie  coquetted 


158  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

with  her  lover,  while  the  artist  and  Hortense  were  impatiently 
awaiting  the  moment  when  the  baroness  should  have  given  the 
girl  her  last  kiss  and  blessing. 

At  seven  in  the  morning  the  baron,  perfectly  happy — for 
his  Valerie  was  at  once  the  most  guileless  of  girls  and  the  most 
consummate  of  demons — went  back  to  release  his  son  and 
Celestine  from  their  duties.  All  the  dancers,  for  the  most 
part  strangers,  had  taken  possession  of  the  territory,  as  they 
do  at  every  wedding-ball,  and  were  keeping  up  the  endless 
figures  of  the  cotillions,  while  the  gamblers  were  still  crowding 
round  the  card-tables,  and  old  Crevel  had  won  six  thousand 
francs. 

The  morning  papers,  carried  round  the  town,  contained  this 
paragraph  in  the  Paris  items : 

"The  marriage  was  celebrated  this  morning,  at  the  church 
of  Saint-Thomas  d'Aquin,  between  Monsieur  le  Comte  Stein- 
bock  and  Mademoiselle  Hortense  Hulot,  daughter  of  Baron 
Hulot  d'Ervy,  Councilor  of  State  and  a  Director  at  the  War 
Office;  niece  of  the  famous  General  Comte  de  Forzheim. 
The  ceremony  attracted  a  large  gathering.  There  were  present 
some  of  the  most  distinguished  artists  of  the  day :  Leon  de 
Lora,  Joseph  Bridau,  Stidmann,  and  Bixiou ;  the  magnates  of 
the  War  Office,  of  the  Council  of  State,  and  many  members 
of  the  two  Chambers;  also  the  most  distinguished  of  the 
Polish  exiles  living  in  Paris :  Counts  Paz,  Laginski,  and 
others. 

' '  Monsieur  le  Comte  Wenceslas  Steinbock  is  grand-nephew 
to  the  famous  general  who  served  under  Charles  XII.,  King 
of  Sweden.  The  young  count,  having  taken  part  in  the 
Polish  rebellion,  found  a  refuge  in  France,  where  his  well- 
earned  fame  as  a  sculptor  has  procured  him  a  patent  of 
naturalization." 

And  so,  in  spite  of  the  baron's  cruel  lack  of  money,  nothing 


COUSIN  BETTY.  159 

was  lacking  that  public  opinion  could  require,  not  even  the 
trumpeting  of  the  newspapers  over  his  daughter's  marriage, 
which  was  solemnized  in  the  same  way,  in  every  particular,  as 
his  son's  had  been  to  Mademoiselle  Crevel.  This  display 
moderated  the  reports  current  as  to  the  baron's  financial  posi- 
tion, while  the  fortune  assigned  to  his  daughter  explained  the 
need  for  having  borrowed  money. 

Here  ends  what  is,  in  a  way,  the  introduction  to  this  story. 
It  is  to  the  drama  that  follows  what  the  premise  is  to  a  syllo- 
gism, what  the  prologue  is  to  a  classical  tragedy. 

In  Paris,  when  a  woman  determines  to  make  a  business,  a 
trade,  of  her  beauty,  it  does  not  follow  that  she  will  make  a 
fortune.  Lovely  creatures  may  be  found  there,  and  full  of 
wit,  who  are  in  wretched  circumstances,  ending  in  misery  a 
life  begun  in  pleasure.  And  this  is  why :  It  is  not  enough 
merely  to  accept  the  shameful  life  of  a  courtesan  with  a  view 
to  earning  its  profits,  and  at  the  same  time  to  bear  the  simple 
garb  of  a  respectable  middle-class  wife.  Vice  does  not  triumph 
so  easily ;  it  resembles  genius  in  so  far  that  they  both  need  a 
concurrence  of  favorable  conditions  to  develop  the  coalition 
of  fortune  and  gifts.  Eliminate  the  strange  prologue  of  the 
Revolution,  and  the  Emperor  would  never  have  existed ;  he 
would  have  been  no  more  than  a  second  edition  of  Fabert. 
Venal  beauty,  if  it  finds  no  amateurs,  no  celebrity,  no  cross 
of  dishonor  earned  by  squandering  men's  fortunes,  is  Cor- 
reggio  in  a  hay-loft,  is  genius  starving  in  a  garret.  Lais,  in 
Paris,  must  first  and  foremost  find  a  rich  man  mad  enough  to 
pay  her  price.  She  must  keep  up  a  very  elegant  style,  for  this 
is  her  trade-sign ;  she  must  be  sufficiently  well  bred  to  flatter 
the  vanity  of  her  lovers;  she  must  have  the  brilliant  wit  of  a 
Sophie  Arnould,  which  diverts  the  apathy  of  rich  men  ;  finally, 
she  must  arouse  the  passions  of  libertines  by  appearing  to  be 
mistress  to  one  man  only  who  is  envied  by  the  rest. 

These  conditions,  which  a  woman  of  that  class  calls  being 


160  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

in  luck,  are  difficult  to  combine  in  Paris,  although  it  is  a  city 
of  millionaires,  of  idlers,  of  used-up  and  capricious  men. 

Providence  has,  no  doubt,  vouchsafed  protection  to  clerks 
and  middle-class  citizens,  for  whom  obstacles  of  this  kind  are 
at  least  double  in  the  sphere  in  which  they  move.  At  the 
same  time,  there  are  enough  Madame  Marneffes  in  Paris  to 
allow  of  our  taking  Valerie  to  figure  as  a  type  in  this  picturs 
of  manners.  Some  of  these  women  yield  to  the  double  pres- 
sure of  a  genuine  passion  and  of  hard  necessity,  like  Madame 
Colleville,  who  was  for  long  attached  to  one  of  the  famous 
orators  of  the  left,  Keller  the  banker.  Others  are  spurred  by 
vanity,  like  Madame  de  la  Baudraye,  who  remained  almost 
respectable  in  spite  of  her  elopement  with  Lousteau.  Some, 
again,  are  led  astray  by  the  love  of  fine  clothes,  and  some  by 
the  impossibility  of  keeping  a  house  going  on  obviously  too 
narrow  means.  The  stinginess  of  the  State — or  of  Parliament 
— leads  to  many  disasters  and  to  much  corruption. 

At  the  present  moment  the  laboring  classes  are  the  fashion- 
able object  of  compassion ;  they  are  being  murdered — it  is 
said — by  the  manufacturing  capitalist;  but  the  Government 
is  a  hundred  times  harder  than  the  meanest  tradesman,  it 
carries  its  economy  in  the  article  of  salaries  to  absolute  folly. 
If  you  work  harder,  the  merchant  will  pay  you  more  in  propor- 
tion ;  but  what  does  the  State  do  for  its  crowd  of  obscure  and 
devoted  toilers? 

In  a  married  woman  it  is  an  inexcusable  crime  when  she 
wanders  from  the  path  of  honor ;  still,  there  are  degrees  even 
in  such  a  case.  Some  women,  far  from  being  depraved,  con- 
ceal their  fall  and  remain  to  all  appearance  quite  respectable, 
Hke  those  two  just  referred  to,  while  others  add  to  their  fault 
the  disgrace  of  speculation.  Thus  Madame  Marneffe  is,  as  it 
were,  the  type  of  those  ambitious  married  courtesans  who  from 
the  first  accept  depravity  with  all  its  consequences,  and  deter- 
mine to  make  a  fortune  while  taking  thair  pleasure,  perfectly 
unscrupulous  as  to  the  means.     But  almost  always  a  woman 


COUSIN  BETTY.  161 

like  Madame  Marneffe  has  a  husband  who  is  her  confederate 
and  accomplice.  These  Machiavellis  in  petticoats  are  the 
most  dangerous  of  the  sisterhood ;  of  every  evil  class  of 
Parisian  women,  they  are  the  worst. 

A  mere  courtesan — a  Josepha,  a  Malaga,  a  Madame  Schontz, 
a  Jenny  Cadine — carries  in  her  frank  dishonor  a  warning 
signal  as  conspicuous  as  the  red  lamp  of  a  house  of  ill-fame  or 
the  flaring  lights  of  a  gambling  hell.  A  man  knows  that  they 
light  him  to  his  ruin. 

But  mealy-mouthed  propriety,  the  semblance  of  virtue,  the 
hypocritical  ways  of  a  married  woman  who  never  allows  any- 
thing to  be  seen  but  the  vulgar  needs  of  the  household,  and 
affects  to  refuse  every  kind  of  extravagance,  leads  to  silent 
ruin,  dumb  disaster,  which  is  all  the  more  startling  because, 
though  condoned,  it  remains  unaccounted  for.  It  is  the 
ignoble  bill  of  daily  expenses  and  not  gay  dissipation  that 
devours  the  largest  fortune.  The  father  of  a  family  ruins 
himself  ingloriously,  and  the  great  consolation  of  gratified 
vanity  is  wanting  in  his  misery. 

This  little  sermon  will  go  like  a  javelin  to  the  heart  of  many 
a  home.  Madame  Marneffes  are  to  be  seen  in  every  sphere  of 
social  life,  even  at  Court ;  for  Valerie  is  a  melancholy  fact, 
modeled  from  the  life  in  the  smallest  details.  And,  alas ! 
The  portrait  will  not  cure  any  man  of  the  folly  of  loving 
these  sweetly-smiling  angels  with  pensive  looks  and  candid 
faces,  whose  heart  is  a  cash-box. 

About  three  years  after  Hortense's  marriage,  in  1841, 
Baron  Hulot  d'Ervy  was  supposed  to  have  sown  his  wild  oats, 
to  have  "  put  up  his  horses,"  to  quote  the  expression  used  by 
Louis  XV. 's  head-surgeon,  and  yet  Madame  Marneffe  was 
costing  him  twice  as  much  as  Josepha  had  ever  cost  him. 
Still,  Valerie,  though  always  nicely  dressed,  affected  the 
simplicity  of  a  subordinate  official's  wife;  she  kept  her  luxury 
for  her  dressing-gowns,  her  home  wear.  She  thus  sacrificed 
11 


162  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

her  Parisian  vanity  to  her  dear  Hector,  At  the  theatre,  how- 
ever, she  always  appeared  in  a  pretty  bonnet  and  a  dress  of 
extreme  elegance ;  and  the  baron  took  her  in  a  carriage  to  a 
private  box. 

Her  rooms,  the  whole  of  the  third  floor  of  a  modern  house 
in  the  Rue  Vanneau,  between  a  fore-court  and  a  garden,  was 
redolent  of  respectability.  All  its  luxury  was  in  good  chintz 
hangings  and  handsome  convenient  furniture. 

Her  bedroom,  indeed,  was  the  exception,  and  rich  with 
such  profusion  as  Jenny  Cadine  or  Madame  Schontz  might 
have  displayed.  There  were  lace  curtains,  cashmere  hangings, 
brocade  portieres,  a  set  of  chimney  ornaments  modeled  by 
Stidmann,  a  glass  cabinet  filled  with  dainty  nicknacks. 
Hulot  could  not  bear  to  see  his  Valdrie  in  a  bower  of  infe- 
rior magnificence  to  the  dunghill  of  gold  and  pearls  owned 
by  a  Josepha.  The  drawing-room  was  furnished  with  red 
damask,  and  the  dining-room  had  carved  oak  panels.  But 
the  baron,  carried  away  by  his  wish  to  have  everything  in 
keeping,  had,  at  the  end  of  six  months,  added  solid  luxury  to 
mere  fashion  and  had  given  her  handsome  portable  property, 
as,  for  instance,  a  service  of  plate  that  was  to  cost  more  than 
twenty-four  thousand  francs. 

Madame  Marneffe's  house  had  in  a  couple  of  years  achieved 
a  reputation  for  being  a  very  pleasant  one.  Gambling  went 
on  there.  Valerie  herself  was  soon  spoken  of  as  an  agreeable 
and  witty  woman.  To  account  for  her  change  of  style,  a 
rumor  was  set  going  of  an  immense  legacy  bequeathed  to  her 
by  her  **  natural  father,"  Marshal  Montcornet,  and  left  in 
trust. 

With  an  eye  to  the  future,  Valerie  had  added  religious 
to  social  hypocrisy.  Punctual  at  the  Sunday  services,  she 
enjoyed  all  the  honors  due  to  the  pious.  She  carried  the  bag 
for  the  offertory,  she  was  a  member  of  a  charitable  association, 
presented  bread  for  the  sacrament,  and  did  some  good  among 
the  poor,  all  at  Hector's  expense.    Thus  everything  about  the 


COUSIN  BETTY.  163 

house  was  perfectly  seemly.  And  a  great  many  persons  main- 
tained that  her  friendship  with  the  baron  was  entirely  inno- 
cent, supporting  the  view  by  the  gentleman's  mature  age,  and 
ascribing  to  him  a  Platonic  liking  for  Madame  Marneffe's 
pleasant  wit,  charming  manners,  and  conversation — such  a 
liking  as  that  of  the  late  lamented  Louis  XVIII.  for  a  well- 
phrased  note. 

The  baron  always  withdrew  with  the  other  company  at 
about  midnight,  and  came  back  a  quarter  of  an  hour  later. 

The  secret  of  this  secrecy  was  as  follows.  The  lodge- 
keepers  of  the  house  were  a  Monsieur  and  Madame  Olivier, 
who,  under  the  baron's  patronage,  had  been  promoted  from 
their  humble  and  not  very  lucrative  post  ia  the  Rue  du 
Doyenne  to  the  highly  paid  and  handsome  one  in  the  Rue 
Vanneau.  Now,  Madame  Olivier,  formerly  a  needlew'oman 
in  the  household  of  Charles  X.,  who  had  fallen  in  the  world 
with  the  legitimate  branch,  had  three  children.  The  eldest, 
an  under-clerk  in  a  notary'  s  office,  was  the  object  of  his 
parents'  adoration.  This  Benjamin,  for  six  years  in  danger 
of  being  drawn  for  the  army,  was  on  the  point  of  being  inter- 
rupted in  his  legal  career,  when  Madame  MarnefTe  contrived 
to  have  him  declared  exempt  for  one  of  those  little  malforma- 
tions which  the  Examining  Board  can  always  discern  when 
requested  in  a  whisper  by  some  power  in  the  ministry.  So 
Olivier,  formerly  a  huntsman  to  the  King,  and  his  wife  would 
have  crucified  the  Lord  again  for  the  baron  or  for  Madame 
MarnefTe. 

What  could  the  world  have  to  say  ?  It  knew  nothing  of  the 
former  episode  of  the  Brazilian,  Monsieur  Montdz  de  Monte- 
janos — it  could  say  nothing.  Beside,  the  world  is  very  in- 
dulgent to  the  mistress  of  a  house  where  amusement  is  to  be 
found. 

And  then  to  all  her  charms  Valerie  added  the  highly  prized 
advantage  of  being  an  occult  power.  Claud  Vignon,  now 
secretary  to  Marshal  the  Prince  de  Wissembourg,  and  dream- 


164  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

ing  o»  promotion  to  the  Council  of  State  as  a  master  of  ap- 
peals, was  constantly  seen  in  her  rooms,  to  which  came  also 
some  deputies — good  fellows  and  gamblers.  Madame  Mar- 
neffe  had  got  her  circle  together  with  prudent  deliberation ; 
only  men  whose  opinions  and  habits  agreed  foregathered  there, 
men  whose  interest  it  was  to  hold  together  and  to  proclaim 
the  many  merits  of  the  lady  of  the  house.  Scandal  is  the  true 
Holy  Alliance  in  Paris.  Take  that  as  an  axiom.  Interests 
invariably  end  by  dividing  men ;  vicious  natures  can  always 
agree. 

Within  three  months  of  settling  in  the  Rue  Vanneau, 
Madame  Marneffe  had  entertained  Monsieur  Crevel,  who  by 
that  time  was  jnayor  of  his  arrondissement  and  ofiScer  of  the 
Legion  of  Honor.  Crevel  had  hesitated ;  he  would  have  to 
give  up  the  famous  uniform  of  the  National  Guard  in  which 
he  strutted  at  the  Tuileries,  believing  himself  quite  as  much  a 
soldier  as  the  Emperor  himself;  but  ambition,  urged  by 
Madame  Marneffe,  had  proved  stronger  than  vanity.  Then 
Monsieur  le  Maire  had  considered  his  connection  with  Made- 
moiselle Heloise  Brisetout  as  quite  incompatible  with  his  po- 
litical position. 

Indeed,  long  before  his  accession  to  the  civic  chair  of  the 
mayoralty,  his  gallant  intimacies  had  been  wrapped  in  the 
deepest  mystery.  But,  as  the  reader  may  have  guessed, 
Crevel  had  soon  purchased  the  right  of  taking  his  revenge,  as 
often  as  circumstances  allowed,  for  having  been  bereft  of 
Josepha,  at  the  cost  of  a  bond  bearing  six  thousand  francs  of 
interest  in  the  name  of  Valerie  Fortin,  wife  of  the  Sieur  Mar- 
neffe, for  her  sole  and  separate  use.  Valerie,  inheriting  perhaps 
from  her  mother  the  special  acumen  of  the  kept  woman,  read 
the  character  of  her  grotesque  adorer  at  a  glance.  The  phrase 
"I  never  had  a  lady  for  a  mistress,"  spoken  by  Crevel  to 
Lisbeth,  and  repeated  by  Lisbeth  to  her  dear  Valerie,  had 
been  handsomely  discounted  in  the  bargain  by  which  she  got 
her  six  thousand  francs  a  year  in  five  per  cents.     And  since 


COUSIN  BETTY.  165 

then  she  had  never  allowed  her  prestige  to  grow  less  in  the 
eyes  of  Cesar  Birotteau's  erewhile  drummer. 

Crevel  himself  had  married  for  money  the  daughter  of  a 
miller  of  la  Brie,  an  only  child,  indeed,  whose  inheritance 
constituted  three-quarters  of  his  fortune ;  for  when  retail- 
dealers  grow  rich,  it  is  generally  not  so  much  by  trade  as 
through  some  alliance  between  the  store  and  rural  thrift.  A 
large  proportion  of  the  farmers,  corn-factors,  dairy-keepers, 
and  market-gardeners  in  the  neighborhood  of  Paris  dream  of 
the  glories  of  the  desk  for  their  daughters,  and  look  upon  a 
storekeeper,  a  jeweler,  or  a  money-changer  as  a  son-in-law 
after  their  own  heart,  in  preference  to  a  notary  or  an  attorney, 
whose  superior  social  position  is  a  ground  of  suspicion  ;  they 
are  afraid  of  being  scorned  in  the  future  by  these  citizen  big- 
wigs. 

Madame  Crevel,  ugly,  vulgar,  and  silly,  had  given  her  hus- 
band no  pleasures  but  those  of  paternity ;  she  had  died  young. 
Her  libertine  husband,  fettered  at  the  beginning  of  his  com- 
mercial career  by  the  necessity  for  working,  and  held  in  thrall 
by  want  of  money,  had  led  the  life  of  Tantalus.  Thrown  in 
— as  he  phrased  it — with  the  most  elegant  women  in  Paris,  he 
let  them  out  of  the  store  with  servile  homage,  while  admiring 
their  grace,  their  way  of  wearing  the  fashions,  and  all  the 
nameless  charms  of  what  is  called  breeding.  To  rise  to  the 
level  of  one  of  these  fairies  of  the  drawing-room  was  a  desire 
formed  in  his  youth,  but  buried  in  the  depths  of  his  heart. 
Thus  to  win  the  favors  of  Madame  Marneflfe  was  to  him  not 
merely  the  realization  of  his  chimera,  but,  as  has  been  shown, 
a  point  of  pride,  of  vanity,  of  self-satisfaction.  His  ambition 
grew  with  success ;  his  brain  was  turned  with  elation ;  and 
when  the  mind  is  captivated,  the  heart  feels  more  keenly, 
every  gratification  is  doubled. 

Also,  it  must  be  said  that  Madame  Marneflfe  oflTered  to 
Crevel  a  refinement  of  pleasure  of  which  he  had  had  no  idea ; 
neither  Josepha  nor  Helo'ise  had  loved  him ;  and  Madame 


166  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

Mameffe  thought  it  necessary  to  deceive  him  thoroughly,  for 
this  man,  she  saw,  would  prove  an  inexhaustible  bank.  The 
deceptions  of  a  venal  passion  are  more  delightful  than  the 
real  thing.  True  love  is  mixed  up  with  bird-like  squabbles, 
in  which  the  disputants  wound  each  other  to  the  quick ;  but  a 
quarrel  without  animus  is,  on  the  contrary,  a  piece  of  flattery 
to  the  dupe's  conceit. 

The  rare  interviews  granted  to  Crevel  kept  his  passion  at 
white  heat.  He  was  constantly  blocked  by  Valerie's  virtuous 
severity;  she  acted  remorse,  and  wondered  what  her  father 
must  be  thinking  of  her  in  the  paradise  of  the  brave.  Again 
and  again  he  had  to  contend  with  a  sort  of  coldness,  which 
the  cunning  slut  made  him  believe  he  had  overcome  by  seem- 
ing to  surrender  to  the  man's  crazy  passion  ;  and  then,  as  it 
ashamed,  she  intrenched  herself  once  more  in  her  pride  of 
respectability  and  airs  of  virtue,  just  like  an  Englishwoman, 
neither  more  nor  less;  and  she  alwa}'s  crushed  her  Crevel 
under  the  weight  of  her  dignity — for  Crevel  had,  in  the  first 
instance,  swallowed  her  pretensions  to  virtue. 

In  short,  Valerie  had  special  veins  of  affection  which  made 
her  equally  indispensable  to  Crevel  and  to  the  baron.  Before 
the  world  she  displayed  the  attractive  combination  of  modest 
and  pensive  innocence,  of  irreproachable  propriety,  with  a 
bright  humor  enhanced  by  the  suppleness,  the  grace  and 
softness  of  the  creole ;  but  in  a  tite-a-tite  she  would  outdo 
any  courtesan ;  she  was  audacious,  amusing,  and  full  of  original 
inventiveness.  Such  a  contrast  is  irresistible  to  a  man  of  the 
Crevel  type  j  he  is  flattered  by  believing  himself  sole  author 
of  the  comedy,  thinking  it  is  performed  for  his  benefit  alone, 
and  he  laughs  at  the  exquisite  hypocrisy  while  admiring  the 
hypocrite. 

Valerie  had  taken  entire  possession  of  Baron  Hulot ;  she 
had  persuaded  him  to  grow  old  by  one  of  those  subtle  touches 
of  flatter)'  which  reveal  the  diabolical  wit  of  women  like  her. 
In  all  evergreen   constitutions  a  moment   arrives  when  the 


COUSIN  BETTY,  167 

truth  suddenly  comes  out,  as  in  a  besieged  town  which  puts  a 
good  face  on  affairs  as  long  as  possible.  Valerie,  foreseeing 
the  approaching  collapse  of  the  old  beau  of  the  Empire,  deter- 
mined to  forestall  it. 

"  Why  give  yourself  so  much  bother,  my  dear  old  veteran  ?  " 
said  she  one  day,  six  months  after  their  doubly  adulterous 
union.  "Do  you  want  to  be  flirting?  To  be  unfaithful  to 
me?  I  assure  you,  I  should  like  you  better  without  your 
make-up.  Oblige  me  by  giving  up  all  your  artificial  charms. 
Do  you  suppose  that  it  is  for  two  sou's  worth  of  polish  on 
your  boots  that  I  love  you  ?  For  your  india-rubber  belt,  your 
strait-waistcoat,  and  your  false  hair?  And  then,  the  older 
you  look,  the  less  need  I  fear  seeing  my  Hulot  carried  oflF  by 
a  rival." 

And  Hulot,  trusting  to  Madame  MarnefTe's  heavenly  friend- 
ship as  much  as  to  her  love,  intending,  too,  to  end  his  days 
with  her,  had  taken  this  confidential  hint,  and  ceased  to  dye 
his  whiskers  and  hair.  After  this  touching  declaration  from 
his  Valerie,  handsome  Hector  made  his  appearance  one  morn- 
ing perfectly  white.  Madame  Marneffe  could  assure  him  that 
she  had  a  hundred  times  detected  the  white  line  of  the  growth 
of  the  hair. 

"And  white  hair  suits  your  face  to  perfection,"  said  she; 
**  it  softens  it.  You  look  a  thousand  times  better,  quite 
charming." 

The  baron,  once  started  on  this  path  of  reform,  gave  up  his 
leather  vest  and  stays;  he  threw  off  all  his  bracing.  His 
stomach  fell  and  increased  in  size.  The  oak  became  a  tower, 
and  the  heaviness  of  his  movements  was  all  the  more  alarming 
because  the  baron  grew  immensely  older  by  playing  the  part 
of  Louis  XII.  His  eyebrows  were  still  black,  and  left  a 
ghostly  reminiscence  of  Handsome  Hulot,  as  sometimes  on 
the  old  wall  of  some  feudal  building  a  faint  trace  of  sculpture 
remains  to  show  what  the  castle  was  in  the  days  of  its  glory. 
This  discordant  detail  made  his  eyes,  still  bright  and  youthful, 


168  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

all  the  more  remarkable  in  his  tanned  face,  because  it  had 
so  long  been  ruddy  with  the  florid  hues  of  a  Reubens ;  and 
now  a  certain  discoloration  and  the  deep  tension  of  the 
wrinkles  betrayed  the  efforts  of  a  passion  at  odds  with  natural 
decay.  Hulot  was  now  one  of  those  stalwart  ruins  in  which 
virile  force  asserts  itself  by  tufts  of  hair  in  the  ears  and  nostrils 
and  on  the  fingers,  as  moss  grows  on  the  almost  eternal  monu- 
ments of  the  Roman  Empire. 

How  had  Valerie  contrived  to  keep  Crevel  and  Hulot  side 
by  side,  each  tied  to  an  apron-string,  when  the  vindictive 
major  only  longed  to  triumph  openly  over  Hulot  ?  Without 
immediately  giving  an  answer  to  this  question,  which  the 
course  of  the  story  will  supply,  it  may  be  said  that  Lisbeth 
and  Valerie  had  contrived  a  powerful  piece  of  machinery 
which  tended  to  this  result.  Marneffe,  as  he  saw  his  wife 
improved  in  beauty  by  the  setting  in  which  she  was  enthroned, 
like  the  sun  at  the  centre  of  the  sidereal  system,  appeared,  in 
the  eyes  of  the  world,  to  have  fallen  in  love  with  her  again 
himself;  he  was  quite  crazy  about  her.  Now,  though  his 
jealousy  made  him  somewhat  of  a  marplot,  it  gave  enhanced 
value  to  Valerie's  favors.  Marneffe  meanwhile  showed  a  blind 
confidence  in  his  chief,  which  degenerated  into  ridiculous 
complaisance.  The  only  person  whom  he  really  would  not 
stand  was  Crevel. 

Marneffe,  wrecked  by  the  debauchery  of  great  cities,  de- 
scribed by  Roman  authors,  though  modern  decency  has 
no  name  for  it,  was  as  hideous  as  an  anatomical  figure  in 
wax.  But  this  disease  on  feet,  clothed  in  good  broadcloth, 
encased  his  lath-like  legs  in  elegant  trousers.  The  hollow 
chest  was  scented  with  fine  linen,  and  musk  disguised  the 
odors  of  rotten  humanity.  This  hideous  specimen  of  decay- 
ing vice,  trotting  in  red  heels — for  Valdrie  dressed  the  man 
as  beseemed  his  income,  his  cross,  and  his  appointment — hor- 
rified Crevel,  who  could  not  meet  the  colorless  eyes  of  the 
Government  clerk.     Marneffe  was  an  incubus  to  the  mayor. 


COUSIN  BETTY.  169 

And  the  mean  rascal,  aware  of  the  strange  power  conferred  on 
him  by  Lisbeth  and  his  wife,  was  amused  by  it  \  he  played  on 
it  as  on  an  instrument ;  and  cards  being  the  last  resource  of  a 
mind  as  completely  played  out  as  the  body,  he  plucked  Crevel 
again  and  again,  the  mayor  thinking  himself  bound  to  sub- 
serviency to  the  worthy  official  whom  he  was  deceiving. 

Seeing  Crevel  a  mere  child  in  the  hands  of  that  hideous  and 
atrocious  mummy,  of  whose  utter  vileness  the  mayor  knew 
nothing ;  and  seeing  him,  yet  more,  an  object  of  deep  con- 
tempt to  Valerie,  who  made  game  of  Crevel  as  of  some  mounte- 
bank, the  baron  apparently  thought  him  so  impossible  as  a  rival 
that  he  constantly  invited  him  to  dinner. 

Valerie,  protected  by  two  lovers  on  guard,  and  by  a  jealous 
husband,  attracted  every  eye,  and  excited  every  desire  in 
the  circle  she  shone  upon.  And  thus,  while  keeping  up  ap- 
pearances, she  had,  in  the  course  of  three  years,  achieved 
the  most  difficult  conditions  of  the  success  a  courtesan  most 
cares  for  and  most  rarely  attains,  even  with  the  help  of  audac- 
ity and  the  glitter  of  an  existence  in  the  light  of  the  sun. 
Valerie's  beauty,  formerly  buried  in  the  mud  of  the  Rue  du 
Doyenne,  now,  like  a  well-cut  diamond  exquisitely  set  by 
Chanor,  was  worth  more  than  its  real  value — it  could  break 
hearts.     Claud  Vignon  adored  Valerie  in  secret. 

This  retrospective  explanation,  quite  necessary  after  the 
lapse  of  three  years,  shows  Valerie's  balance-sheet.  Now  for 
that  of  her  partner,  Lisbeth. 

Cousin  Betty  filled  the  place  in  the  Marneffe  household  of 
a  relation  who  combines  the  functions  of  a  lady  companion 
and  a  housekeeper ;  but  she  suffered  from  none  of  the  humilia- 
tions which,  for  the  most  part,  weigh  upon  the  women  who 
are  so  unhappy  as  to  be  obliged  to  fill  these  ambiguous  situa- 
tions. Lisbeth  and  Valerie  offered  the  touching  spectacle  of 
one  of  those  friendships  between  women,  so  cordial  and  so 
improbable,  that  men,  always  too  keen-tongued  in  Paris,  forth- 


170  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

with  slander  them.  The  contrast  between  Lisbeth's  dry 
masculine  nature  and  Valerie's  creole  prettiness  encouraged 
calumny.  And  Madame  Marneffe  had  unconsciously  given 
weight  to  the  scandal  by  the  care  she  took  of  her  friend,  with 
matrimonial  views,  which  were,  as  will  be  seen,  to  complete 
Lisbeth's  revenge. 

An  immense  change  had  taken  place  in  Cousin  Betty;  and 
Valerie,  who  wanted  to  smarten  her,  had  turned  it  to  the  best 
account.  The  strange  woman  had  submitted  to  corsets,  and 
laced  tightly ;  she  used  bandoline  to  keep  her  hair  smooth, 
wore  her  gowns  as  the  dressmaker  sent  them  home,  neat  little 
shoes,  and  gray  silk  stockings,  all  of  which  were  included  in 
Valerie's  bills,  and  paid  for  by  the  particular  gentleman  in 
possession.  Thus  furbished  up,  though  still  wearing  the  yel- 
low cashmere  shawl,  Lisbeth  would  have  been  unrecognizable 
by  any  one  who  had  not  seen  her  for  three  years. 

This  other  diamond — a  black  diamond,  the  rarest  of  all — 
cut  by  a  skilled  hand,  and  set  as  best  became  her,  was  appre- 
ciated at  her  full  value  by  certain  ambitious  clerks.  Any  one 
seeing  her  for  the  first  time  might  have  shuddered  involuntarily 
at  the  look  of  poetic  wildness  which  the  clever  Valerie  had 
succeeded  in  bringing  out  by  the  arts  of  dress  in  this  Bleeding 
Nun,  framing  the  ascetic  olive  face  in  thick  bands  of  hair  as 
black  as  the  fiery  eyes,  and  making  the  most  of  the  rigid,  slim 
figure.  Lisbeth,  like  a  Virgin  by  Cranach  or  Van  Eyck,  or  a 
Byzantine  Madonna  stepped  out  of  its  frame,  had  all  the 
stiffness,  the  precision  of  those  mysterious  figures,  the  more 
modern  cousins  of  Isis  and  her  sister  goddesses  sheathed  in 
marble  folds  by  Egyptian  sculptors.  It  was  granite,  basalt, 
porphyry,  with  life  and  movement. 

Secure  from  want  for  the  rest  of  her  life,  Lisbeth  was  most 
amiable ;  wherever  she  dined  she  brought  merriment.  And 
the  baron  paid  the  rent  of  her  little  apartment,  furnished,  as 
we  know,  with  the  leavings  of  her  friend  Valerie's  former 
boudoir  and  bedroom. 


COUSIN  BETTY.  171 

**I  began,"  she  would  say,  "as  a  hungry  nanny  goat,  and 
I  am  ending  as  a  lionne. ' ' 

She  still  worked  for  Monsieur  Rivet  at  the  more  elaborate 
kinds  of  gold-trimming,  merely,  as  she  said,  not  to  lose  her 
time.  At  the  same  time,  she  was,  as  we  shall  see,  very  full  of 
business  ;  but  it  is  inherent  in  the  nature  of  country-folk 
never  to  give  up  bread-winning ;  in  this  they  are  like  the  Jews. 

Every  morning,  very  early.  Cousin  Betty  went  off  to  market 
with  the  cook.  It  was  part  of  Lisbeth's  scheme  that  the 
house-book,  which  was  ruining  Baron  Hulot,  was  to  enrich 
her  dear  Valerie — as  it  did  indeed. 

Is  there  a  housewife  who,  since  1838,  has  not  suffered  from 
the  evil  effects  of  Socialist  doctrines  diffused  among  the  lower 
classes  by  incendiary  writers  ?  In  every  household  the  plague 
of  servants  is  nowadays  the  worst  of  financial  afflictions. 
With  very  few  exceptions,  who  ought  to  be  rewarded  with  the 
Montyon  prize,  the  cook,  male  or  female,  is  a  domestic 
robber,  a  thief  taking  wages,  and  perfectly  barefaced,  with 
the  Government  for  a  fence,  developing  the  tendency  to  dis- 
honesty, which  is  almost  authorized  in  the  cook  by  the  time- 
honored  jest  as  to  the  **  handle  of  the  basket."  The  women 
who  formerly  filched  their  forty  sous  to  buy  a  lottery  ticket 
now  take  fifty  francs  to  put  into  the  savings  bank.  And  the 
smug  Puritans  who  amuse  themselves  in  France  with  philan- 
thropic experiments  fancy  that  they  are  making  the  common 
people  moral ! 

Between  the  market  and  the  master's  table  the  servants  have 
their  secret  toll,  and  the  municipality  of  Paris  is  less  sharp  in 
collecting  the  city  dues  than  the  servants  are  in  taking  theirs 
on  every  single  thing.  To  say  nothing  of  fifty  per  cent, 
charged  on  every  form  of  food,  they  demand  large  New  Year's 
premiums  from  the  tradesmen.  The  best  class  of  dealers  tremble 
before  this  occult  power,  and  subsidize  it  without  a  word — 
coach-makers,  jewelers,  tailors,  and  all.  If  any  attempt  is 
made  to  interfere  with  them,  the  servants  reply  with  impudent 


172  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

retorts,  or  revenge  themselves  by  the  costly  blunders  of 
assumed  clumsiness ;  and  in  these  days  they  inquire  into  their 
master's  character  as,  formerly,  the  master  inquired  into  theirs. 
This  mischief  is  now  really  at  its  height,  and  the  law-courts 
are  beginning  to  take  cognizance  of  it;  but  in  vain,  for  it 
cannot  be  remedied  but  by  a  law  which  shall  compel  domestic 
servants,  like  laborers,  to  have  a  pass-book  as  a  guarantee  of 
conduct.  Then  the  evil  will  vanish  as  if  by  magic.  If  every 
servant  were  obliged  to  show  his  pass-book,  and  if  masters 
were  required  to  state  in  it  the  cause  of  his  dismissal,  this 
would  certainly  prove  a  powerful  check  to  the  evil. 

The  men  who  are  giving  their  attention  to  the  politics  of  the 
day  know  not  to  what  lengths  the  depravity  of  the  lower  classes 
has  gone.  Statistics  are  silent  as  to  the  startling  number  of 
workingmen  of  twenty  who  marry  cooks  of  between  forty  and 
fifty  enriched  by  robbery.  We  shudder  to  think  of  the  re- 
sult of  such  unions  from  the  three  points  of  view  of  increasing 
crime,  degeneracy  of  the  race,  and  miserable  households. 

As  to  the  mere  financial  mischief  that  results  from  domestic 
peculation,  that  too  is  immense  from  a  political  point  of  view. 
Life  being  made  to  cost  double,  any  superfluity  becomes  im- 
possible in  most  households.  Now  superfluity  means  half  the 
trade  of  the  world,  as  it  is  half  the  elegance  of  life.  Books 
and  flowers  are  to  many  persons  as  necessary  as  bread. 

Lisbeth,  well  aware  of  this  dreadful  scourge  of  Parisian 
households,  determined  to  manage  Valerie's,  promising  her 
every  assistance  in  the  terrible  scene  when  the  two  women 
had  sworn  to  be  like  sisters.  So  she  had  brought  from  the 
depths  of  the  Vosges  a  humble  relation  on  her  mother's  side, 
a  very  pious  and  honest  soul,  who  had  been  cook  to  the  Bishop 
of  Nancy.  Fearing,  however,  her  inexperience  of  Paris  ways, 
and  yet  more  the  evil  counsel  which  wrecks  such  fragile  virtue, 
at  first  Lisbeth  always  went  to  market  with  Mathurine,  and 
tried  to  teach  her  what  to  buy.  To  know  the  real  prices  of 
things  and  command  the  salesman's  respect ;  to  purchase  un- 


COUSIN  BETTY.  173 

necessary  delicacies,  such  as  fish,  only  when  they  were  cheap ; 
to  be  well  informed  as  to  the  price  current  of  groceries  and 
provisions,  so  as  to  buy  when  prices  are  low  in  anticipation  of 
a  rise — all  this  housekeeping  skill  is  in  Paris  essential  to  do- 
mestic economy.  As  Mathurine  got  good  wages  and  many 
presents,  she  liked  the  house  well  enough  to  be  glad  to  drive 
good  bargains.  And  by  this  time  Lisbeth  had  made  her  quite 
a  match  for  herself,  suflSciently  experienced  and  trustworthy 
to  be  sent  to  market  alone,  unless  Valerie  was  giving  a  dinner 
— which,  in  fact,  was  not  infrequently  the  case.  And  this 
was  how  it  came  about : 

The  baron  had  at  first  observed  the  strictest  decorum ;  but 
his  passion  for  Madame  Marneffe  had  ere  long  become  so 
vehement,  so  greedy,  that  he  would  never  quit  her  if  he  could 
help  it.  At  first  he  dined  there  four  times  a  week ;  then  he 
thought  it  delightful  to  dine  with  her  every  day.  Six  months 
after  his  daughter's  marriage  he  was  paying  her  two  thousand 
francs  a  month  for  his  board.  Madame  Marneffe  invited  any 
one  her  dear  baron  wished  to  entertain.  The  dinner  was  always 
arranged  for  six ;  he  could  bring  in  three  unexpected  guests. 
Lisbeth's  economy  enabled  her  to  solve  the  extraordinary 
problem  of  keeping  up  the  table  in  the  best  style  for  a  thou- 
sand francs  a  month,  giving  the  other  thousand  to  Madame 
Marneffe.  Valerie's  dress  being  chiefly  paid  for  by  Crevel 
and  the  baron,  the  two  women  saved  another  thousand  francs 
a  month  on  this. 

And  so  this  pure  and  innocent  being  had  already  accumu- 
lated a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  francs  in  savings.  She 
had  capitalized  her  income  and  monthly  bonus,  and  swelled 
the  amount  by  enormous  interest,  due  to  Crevel's  liberality  in 
allowing  his  "  little  duchess"  to  invest  her  money  in  partner- 
ship with  him  in  his  financial  operations.  Crevel  had  taught 
Valerie  the  slang  and  the  procedure  of  the  money  market, 
and,  like  every  Parisian  woman,  she  had  soon  outstripped 
her  master.     Lisbeth,  who  never  spent  a  sou  of  her  twelve 


174  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

hundred  francs,  whose  rent  and  dress  were  given  to  her,  and 
who  never  put  her  hand  in  her  pocket,  had  likewise  a  small 
capital  of  five  or  six  thousand  francs,  of  which  Crevel  took 
fatherly  care. 

At  the  same  time,  two  such  lovers  were  a  heavy  burden  on 
Valerie.  On  the  day  when  this  drama  reopens,  Valerie, 
spurred  by  one  of  those  incidents  which  have  the  effect  in  life 
that  the  ringing  of  a  bell  has  in  inducing  a  swarm  of  bees  to 
settle,  went  up  to  Lisbeth's  rooms  to  give  vent  to  one  of  those 
comforting  lamentations — a  sort  of  cigarette  blown  off  from 
the  tongue — by  which  women  alleviate  the  minor  miseries  of 
life. 

"  Oh,  Lisbeth,  my  love,  two  hours  of  Crevel  this  morning  ! 
It  is  crushing  !     How  I  wish  I  could  send  you  in  my  place  !  " 

"That,  unluckily,  is  impossible,"  said  Lisbeth,  smiling. 
**  I  shall  die  a  maid." 

*'  Two  old  men  lovers  !  Really,  I  am  ashamed  sometimes ! 
Ah  !  if  my  poor  mother  could  see  me." 

"You  are  mistaking  me  for  Crevel !  "  said  Lisbeth. 

"Tell  me,  my  little  Betty,  that  you  do  not  despise  me." 

"Oh!  if  I  had  but  been  pretty,  what  adventures  I  would 
have  had  !  "  cried  Lisbeth.     "  That  is  your  justification." 

"  But  you  would  have  acted  only  on  the  dictates  of  your 
heart,"  said  Madame  Marneffe,  with  a  sigh. 

"Pooh!  Marneffe  is  a  dead  man  they  have  forgotten  to 
bury,"  replied  Lisbeth.  "  The  baron  is  as  good  as  your  hus- 
band ;  Crevel  is  your  adorer ;  it  seems  to  me  that  you  are 
quite  in  order — like  every  other  married  woman." 

"  No,  it  is  not  that,  dear,  adorable  thing;  that  is  not  where 
the  shoe  pinches;  you  do  not  choose  to  understand." 

"Yes  I  do,"  said  Lisbeth.  "The  unexpressed  factor  is 
part  of  my  revenge ;  what  can  I  do  ?  Don't  be  impatient ;  I 
am  working  it  out." 

"  I  love  Wenceslas  so  that  I  am  positively  growing  thin,  and 
I  can  never  see  him,"  said  Valerie,  throwing  up  her  arms. 


COUSIN  BETTY.  175 

**  Hulot  asks  him  to  dinner,  and  my  artist  declines.  He  does 
not  know  that  I  idolize  him,  the  wretch !  What  is  his  wife 
after  all  ?  Fine  flesh  !  Yes,  she  is  handsome,  but  I — I  know 
myself — I  am  something  worse  !  " 

"Be  quite  easy,  my  child,  he  will  come,"  said  Lisbeth,  in 
the  tone  of  a  nurse  to  an  impatient  child.     "  He  shall." 

"But  when?" 

"This  week,  perhaps." 

**Give  me  a  kiss." 

As  may  be  seen,  these  two  women  were  but  one.  Every- 
thing Valerie  did,  even  her  most  reckless  actions,  her  pleasures, 
her  little  sulks,  were  decided  on  after  serious  deliberation 
between  them. 

Lisbeth,  strangely  excited  by  this  harlot  existence,  advised 
Valerie  on  every  step,  and  pursued  her  course  of  revenge  with 
pitiless  logic.  She  really  adored  Valerie ;  she  had  taken  her 
to  be  her  child,  her  friend,  her  love ;  she  found  her  docile,  as 
Creoles  are,  yielding  from  voluptuous  indolence  j  she  chattered 
with  her  morning  after  morning  with  more  pleasure  than  with 
Wenceslas ;  they  could  laugh  together  over  the  mischief  they 
plotted,  and  over  the  folly  of  men,  and  count  up  the  swelling 
interest  on  their  respective  savings. 

Indeed,  in  this  new  enterprise  and  new  affection,  Lisbeth 
had  found  food  for  her  activity  that  was  far  more  satisfying 
than  her  insane  passion  for  Wenceslas.  The  joys  of  gratified 
hatred  are  the  fiercest  and  strongest  the  heart  can  know. 
Love  is  the  gold,  hatred  the  iron  of  the  mine  of  feeling  that 
lies  buried  in  us.  And  then,  Valerie  was,  to  Lisbeth,  Beauty 
in  all  its  glory — the  beauty  she  worshiped,  as  we  worship 
what  we  have  not,  beauty  far  more  plastic  to  her  hand  than 
that  of  Wenceslas,  who  had  always  been  cold  to  her  and 
distant. 

At  the  end  of  nearly  three  years,  Lisbeth  was  beginning  to 
perceive  the  progress  of  the  underground  mine  on  which  she 
was  expending  her  life  and  concentrating  her  mind.     Lisbeth 


176  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

planned,  Madame  Marneffe  acted.  Madame  Marneffe  was  the 
axe,  Lisbeth  was  the  hand  that  wielded  it,  and  that  hand  was 
rapidly  demolishing  the  family  which  was  every  day  more 
odious  to  her ;  for  we  can  hate  more  and  more,  just  as,  when 
we  love,  we  love  better  every  day. 

Love  and  hatred  are  feelings  that  feed  on  themselves ;  but 
of  the  two,  hatred  has  the  longer  vitality.  Love  is  restricted 
within  limits  of  power ;  it  derives  its  energies  from  life  and 
from  lavishness.  Hatred  is  like  death,  like  avarice ;  it  is,  so 
to  speak,  an  active  abstraction,  above  beings  and  things. 

Lisbeth,  embarked  on  the  existence  that  was  natural  to  her, 
expended  in  it  all  her  faculties ;  governing,  like  the  Jesuits, 
by  occult  influences.  The  regeneration  of  her  person  was 
equally  complete ;  her  face  was  radiant.  Lisbeth  dreamed  of 
becoming  Madame  la  Marechale  Hulot. 

This  little  scene,  in  which  the  two  friends  had  bluntly  ut- 
tered their  ideas  without  any  circum.locution  in  expressing 
them,  took  place  immediately  on  Lisbeth's  return  from 
market,  whither  she  had  been  to  procure  the  materials  for  an 
elegant  dinner.  Marneffe,  who  hoped  to  get  Coquet's  place, 
was  to  entertain  him  and  the  virtuous  Madame  Coquet,  and 
Valerie  hoped  to  persuade  Hulot,  that  very  evening,  to  con- 
sider the  head-clerk's  resignation. 

Lisbeth  dressed  to  go  to  the  baroness,  with  whom  she  was 
to  dine. 

"You  will  come  back  in  time  to  make  tea  for  us,  my 
Betty?"  said  Valerie. 

"  I  hope  so." 

''You  hope  so — why?  Have  you  come  to  sleeping  with 
Adeline  to  drink  her  tears  while  she  is  asleep?  " 

"If  only  I  could  !  "  said  Lisbeth,  laughing.  *•'  I  would  not 
refuse.  She  is  expiating  her  happiness — and  I  am  glad,  for  I 
remember  our  young  days.  It  is  my  turn  now.  She  will  be 
in  the  mire,  and  I  shall  be  Comtesse  de  Forzheim !  " 


COUSIN  BETTY.  177 

Lisbeth  set  out  for  the  Rue  Plumet,  where  she  now  went  as 
to  the  theatre — to  indulge  her  emotions. 

The  residence  Hulot  had  found  for  his  wife  consisted  of  a 
large,  bare  entrance-room,  a  drawing-room,  and  a  bed-  and 
dressing-room.  The  dining-room  was  next  the  drawing-room 
on  one  side.  Two  servants'  rooms  and  a  kitchen  on  the 
fourth  floor  completed  the  accommodation,  which  was  not 
unworthy  of  a  councilor  of  State,  high  up  in'  the  War  Office. 
The  house,  the  courtyard,  and  the  stairs  were  extremely  hand- 
some. 

The  baroness,  who  had  to  furnish  her  drawing-room,  bed- 
room, and  dining-room  with  the  relics  of  her  splendor,  had 
brought  away  the  best  of  the  remains  from  the  house  in  the 
Rue  de  I'Universite.  Indeed,  the  poor  woman  was  attached 
to  these  mute  witnesses  of  her  happier  life  j  to  her  they  had 
an  almost  consoling  eloquence.  In  memory  she  saw  her 
flowers,  as  in  the  carpets  she  could  trace  patterns  hardly  visible 
now  to  other  eyes. 

On  going  into  the  spacious  anteroom,  where  twelve  chairs, 
a  barometer,  a  large  stove,  and  long,  white  cotton  curtains, 
bordered  with  red,  suggested  the  dreadful  waiting-room  of  a 
Government  office,  the  visitor  felt  oppressed,  conscious  at 
once  of  the  isolation  in  which  the  mistress  lived.  Grief,  like 
pleasure,  infects  the  atmosphere.  A  first  glance  into  any 
home  is  enough  to  tell  you  whether  love  or  despair  reigns 
there. 

Adeline  would  be  found  sitting  in  an  immense  bedroom 
with  beautiful  furniture  by  Jacob  Desmalters,  in  dappled 
mahogany  finished  in  the  Empire  style  with  ormolu,  which 
looks  even  less  inviting  than  the  brass  work  of  Louis  XVI.! 
It  gave  one  a  shiver  to  see  this  lonely  woman  sitting  on  a 
Roman  chair,*  a  work-table  with  sphinxes  before  her,  colorless, 
affecting  false  cheerfulness,  but  preserving  her  imperial  air, 
as  she  had  preserved  the  blue  velvet  gown  she  always  wore  in 

*  A  seat  carving  to  the  centre,  without  arms  or  back. 
12 


178  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

the  house.  Her  proud  spirit  sustained  her  strength  ana  pre- 
served her  beauty. 

The  baroness,  by  the  end  of  her  first  year  of  banishment  to 
this  apartment,  had  gauged  every  depth  of  misfortune. 

**  Still,  even  here  my  Hector  has  made  my  life  much  hand- 
somer than  it  should  be  for  a  mere  peasant,"  said  she  to  her- 
self. "  He  chooses  that  it  should  be  so ;  his  will  be  done  !  I 
am  Baroness  Hulot,  the  sister-in-law  of  a  marshal  of  France. 
I  have  done  nothing  wrong ;  my  two  children  are  settled  in 
life ;  I  can  wait  for  death,  wrapped  in  the  spotless  veil  of  an 
immaculate  wife  and  the  crepe  of  departed  happiness." 

A  portrait  of  Hulot,  in  the  uniform  of  a  commissary-gen- 
eral of  the  Imperial  Guard,  painted  in  1810  by  Robert  Le- 
febvre,  hung  above  the  work-table,  and  when  visitors  were 
announced,  Adeline  threw  into  a  drawer  an  "Imitation  of 
Jesus  Christ,"  her  habitual  study.  This  blameless  Magdalen 
thus  heard  the  voice  of  the  Spirit  in  her  desert. 

"Mariette,  my  child,"  said  Lisbeth  to  the  woman  who 
opened  the  door,  " how  is  my  dear  Adeline  to-day?  " 

"  Oh,  she  looks  pretty  well,  mademoiselle ;  but  between 
you  and  me,  if  she  goes  on  in  this  way,  she  will  kill  herself," 
said  Mariette  in  a  whisper.  *'  You  really  ought  to  persuade 
her  to  live  better.  Now,  yesterday  madame  told  me  to  give 
her  two  sous'  worth  of  milk  and  a  roll  for  one  sou ;  to  get  her 
a  herring  for  dinner  or  a  bit  of  cold  veal ;  she  had  a  pound 
cooked  to  last  her  the  week — of  course,  for  the  days  when  she 
dines  at  home  and  alone.  She  will  not  spend  more  than  ten 
sous  a  day  for  her  food.  It  is  unreasonable.  If  I  were  to  say 
anything  about  it  to  Monsieur  le  Marechal,  he  might  quarrel 
with  Monsieur  le  Baron  and  leave  him  nothing,  whereas  you, 
who  are  so  kind  and  clever,  can  easily  manage  things  so  that 
they  will " 

"  But  why  do  you  not  apply  to  my  cousin  the  baron  ?  "  said 
Lisbeth. 

*' Oh,  dear  mademoiselle,  he  has  not  been  here  for  three 


COUSIN  BETTY.  179 

weeks  or  more ;  in  fact,  not  since  we  last  had  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  you  !  Beside,  madame  has  forbidden  me,  under  threat 
of  dismissal,  ever  to  ask  the  master  for  money.  But  as  for 
grief !  oh,  poor  lady,  she  has  been  very  unhappy.  It  is  the 
first  time  that  monsieur  has  neglected  her  for  so  long.  Every 
time  the  bell  rang  she  rushed  to  the  window-  -but  for  the  last 
five  days  she  has  sat  still  in  her  chair.  She  reads.  Whenever 
she  goes  out  to  see  Madame  la  Comtesse,  she  says,  '  Mariette, 
if  monsieur  comes  in,'  says  she,  *  tell  him  I  am  at  home,  and 
send  the  porter  to  fetch  me;  he  shall  be  well  paid  for  his 
trouble.'  " 

"Poor  soul!"  said  Lisbeth ;  **  it  goes  to  my  heart.  I 
speak  of  her  to  the  baron  every  day.  What  can  I  do? 
'Yes,'  says  he,  'Betty,  you  are  right;  I  am  a  wretch.  My 
wife  is  an  angel,  and  I  am  a  monster  !  I  will  go  to-mor- 
row  '      And   he   stays  with    Madame    MarnefTe.       That 

woman  is  ruining  him,  and  he  worships  her ;  he  lives  only  in 
her  sight.  I  do  what  I  can  ;  if  I  were  not  there,  and  if  I  had 
not  Mathurine  to  depend  upon,  he  would  spend  twice  as  much 
as  he  does ;  and  as  he  has  hardly  any  money  in  the  world,  he 
would  have  blown  his  brains  out  by  this  time.  And,  I  tell 
you,  Mariette,  Adeline  would  die  of  her  husband's  death,  I 
am  perfectly  certain.  At  any  rate,  I  pull  to  make  both  ends 
meet,  and  prevent  my  cousin  from  throwing  too  much  money 
into  the  fire." 

"Yes,  that  is  what  madame  says,  poor  soul !  She  knows 
how  much  she  owes  you,"  replied  Mariette.  "She  said  she 
had  judged  you  unjustly  for  many  years " 

"Indeed!"  said  Lisbeth.  "And  did  she  say  anything 
else?" 

"  No,  mademoiselle.  If  you  wish  to  please  her,  talk  to  her 
about  Monsieur  le  Baron ;  she  envies  you  your  happiness  in 
seeing  him  every  day." 

"Is  she  alone?" 

"  I  beg  pardon,  no  ;  the  marshal  is  with  her.     He  comes 


180  THE   POOR   PARENTS. 

every  day,  and  she  always  tells  him  she  saw  monsieur  in  the 
morning,  but  that  he  comes  in  very  late  at  night." 

"And  is  there  a  good  dinner  to-day?" 

Mariette  hesitated  ;  she  could  not  meet  Lisbeth's  eye.  The 
drawing-room  door  opened,  and  Marshal  Hulot  rushed  out  in 
such  haste  that  he  bowed  to  Lisbeth  without  looking  at  her, 
and  dropped  a  paper,  Lisbeth  picked  it  up  and  ran  after  him 
downstairs,  for  it  was  vain  to  hail  a  deaf  man ;  but  she  man- 
aged not  to  overtake  the  marshal,  and  as  she  came  up  again 
she  furtively  read  the  following  lines  written  in  pencil : 

**  My  dear  Brother: — My  husband  has  given  me  the 
money  for  my  quarter's  expenses;  but  my  daughter  Hortense 
was  in  such  need  of  it,  that  I  lent  her  the  whole  sum,  which 
was  scarcely  enough  to  set  her  straight.  Could  you  lend  me  a 
few  hundred  francs?  P'or  I  cannot  ask  Hector  for  more;  if 
he  were  to  blame  me,  I  could  not  bear  it." 

"My  word!  "  thought  Lisbeth,  "she  must  be  in  extremi- 
ties to  bend  her  pride  to  such  a  degree  !  " 

Lisbeth  went  in.  She  saw  tears  in  Adeline's  eyes,  and 
threw  her  arm  round  her  neck. 

"Adeline,  my  dearest,  I  know  all,"  cried  Cousin  Betty. 
"  Here,  the  marshal  dropped  this  paper — he  was  in  such  a 
state  of  mind,  and  running  like  a  greyhound.  Has  that 
dreadful  Hector  given  you  no  money  since ?  " 

"He  gives  it  me  quite  regularly,"  replied  the  baroness, 
"but  Hortense  needed  it,  and " 

"And  you  had  not  enough  to  pay  for  dinner  to-night," 
said  Lisbeth,  interrupting  her.  "  Now  I  understand  why 
Mariette  looked  so  confused  when  I  said  something  about 
the  soup.  You  really  are  childish,  Adeline ;  come,  take  my 
savings." 

"Thank  you,  my  kind  cousin,"  said  Adeline,  wiping  away 
a  tear.     "This  little  difficulty  is  only  temporary,  and  I  have 


COUSIN  BETTY.  181 

provided  for  the  future.  My  expenses  henceforth  will  be  no 
more  than  two  thousand  four  hundred  francs  a  year,  rent 
inclusive,  and  I  shall  have  the  money.  Above  all,  Betty,  not 
a  word  to  Hector.     Is  he  well  ?  " 

"As  strong  as  the  Pont  Neuf,  and  as  gay  as  a  lark;  he 
thinks  of  nothing  but  his  charmer  Valerie." 

Madame  Hulot  looked  out  at  a  tall  silver-fir  in  front  of  the 
window,  and  Lisbeth  could  not  see  her  cousin's  eyes  to  read 
their  expression. 

"Did  you  mention  that  it  was  the  day  when  we  all  dine 
together  here?" 

"  Yes.  But,  dear  me  !  Madame  Marneffe  is  giving  a  grand 
dinner ;  she  hopes  to  get  Monsieur  Coquet  to  resign,  and  that 
is  of  the  first  importance.  Now,  Adeline,  listen  to  me.  You 
know  that  I  am  fiercely  proud  as  to  my  independence.  Your 
husband,  my  dear,  will  certainly  bring  you  to  ruin.  I  fancied 
I  could  be  of  use  to  you  all  by  living  near  this  woman,  but  she 
is  a  creature  of  unfathomable  depravity,  and  she  will  make 
your  husband  promise  things  which  will  bring  you  all  to  dis- 
grace." Adeline  writhed  like  a  person  stabbed  to  the  heart. 
*'  My  dear  Adeline,  I  am  sure  of  what  I  say.  I  feel  it  is  my 
duty  to  enlighten  you.  Well,  let  us  think  of  the  future.  The 
marshal  is  an  old  man,  but  he  will  last  a  long  time  yet — he 
draws  good  pay ;  when  he  dies  his  widow  would  have  a  pension 
of  six  thousand  francs.  On  such  an  income  I  would  under- 
take to  maintain  you  all.  Use  your  influence  over  the  good 
man  to  get  him  to  marry  me.  It  is  not  for  the  sake  of  being 
Madame  la  Marechale ;  I  value  such  nonsense  at  no  more  than 
I  value  Madame  Marneffe' s  conscience;  but  you  will  all  have 
bread.  I  see  that  Hortense  must  be  wanting  it,  since  you  give 
her  yours." 

The  marshal  now  came  in  ;  he  had  made  such  haste  that  he 
was  mopping  his  forehead  with  his  bandana. 

**  I  have  given  Mariette  two  thousand  francs,"  he  whispered 
to  his  sister-in-law. 


182  THE   POOR   PARENTS. 

Adeline  colored  to  the  roots^of  her  hair.  Two  tears  hung 
on  the  fringes  of  the  still  long  lashes,  and  she  silently  pressed 
the  old  man's  hand ;  his  beaming  face  expressed  the  glee  of  a 
favored  lover. 

"I  intended  to  spend  the  money  in  a  present  for  you, 
Adeline,"  said  he.  "  Instead  of  repaying  me,  you  must  choose 
for  yourself  the  thing  you  would  like  best." 

He  took  Lisbeth's  hand,  which  was  held  out  to  him,  and  so 
bewildered  was  he  by  his  satisfaction  that  he  kissed  it. 

<*That  looks  promising,"  said  Adeline  to  Lisbeth,  smiling 
so  far  as  she  was  able  to  smile. 

The  younger  Hulot  and  his  wife  now  came  in. 

"Is  my  brother  coming  to  dinner?"  asked  the  marshal 
sharply. 

Adeline  took  up  a  pencil  and  wrote  these  words  on  a  scrap 
of  paper : 

"  I  expect  him ;  he  promised  this  morning  that  he  would 
be  here ;  but  if  he  should  not  come,  it  would  be  because  the 
marshal  kept  him.     He  is  overwhelmed  with  business." 

And  she  handed  him  the  paper.  She  had  invented  this  way 
of  conversing  with  Marshal  Hulot,  and  kept  a  little  collection 
of  paper  scraps  and  a  pencil  at  hand  on  the  work-table. 

"  I  know,"  said  the  marshal,  **  he  is  worked  very  hard  over 
the  business  in  Algiers." 

At  this  moment,  Hortense  and  Wenceslas  arrived,  and  the 
baroness,  as  she  saw  all  her  family  about  her,  gave  the  marshal 
a  significant  glance  understood  by  none  but  Lisbeth. 

Happiness  had  greatly  improved  the  artist,  who  was  adored 
by  his  wife  and  flattered  by  the  world.  His  face  had  become 
almost  round,  and  his  graceful  figure  did  justice  to  the  advan- 
tages which  blood  gives  to  men  of  birth.  His  early  fame,  his 
important  position,  the  delusive  eulogies  that  the  world  sheds 
on  artists  as  lightly  as  we  say  :  "  How  d'ye  do?  "  or  discuss 
the  weather,  gave  him  that  high  sense  of  merit  which  degener- 
ates into  sheer  fatuity  when  talent  wanes.     The  cross  of  the 


COUSIN  BETTY.  188 

Legion  of  Honor  was  the  crowning  stamp  of  the  great  man  he 
believed  himself  to  be. 

After  three  years  of  married  life,  Hortense  was  to  her  hus- 
band what  a  dog  is  to  its  master ;  she  watched  his  every  move- 
ment with  a  look  that  seemed  a  constant  inquiry,  her  eyes 
were  always  on  him,  like  those  of  a  miser  on  his  treasure ; 
her  admiring  abnegation  was  quite  pathetic.  In  her  might  be 
seen  her  mother's  spirit  and  teaching.  Her  beauty,  as  great 
as  ever,  was  poetically  touched  by  the  gentle  shadow  of  con- 
cealed melancholy. 

On  seeing  Hortense  come  in,  it  struck  Lisbeth  that  some 
long-suppressed  complaint  was  about  to  break  through  the  thin 
veil  of  reticence.  Lisbeth,  from  the  first  days  of  the  honey- 
moon, had  been  sure  that  this  couple  had  too  small  an  income 
for  so  great  a  passion. 

Hortense,  as  she  embraced  her  mother,  exchanged  with  her 
a  few  whispered  phrases,  heart  to  heart,  of  which  the  mystery 
was  betrayed  to  Lisbeth  Fischer  by  certain  expressive  shakes 
of  the  head. 

"Adeline,  like  me,  must  work  for  her  living,"  thought 
Cousin  Betty.  "  She  shall  be  made  to  tell  me  what  she  will 
do  1  Those  pretty  fingers  will  know  at  last,  like  mine,  what 
it  is  to  work  because  they  must." 

At  six  o'clock  the  family  party  went  in  to  dinner.  A  place 
was  laid  for  Hector. 

"Leave  it  so,"  said  the  baroness  to  Mariette,  *' monsieur 
sometimes  comes  in  late." 

**Oh,  my  father  will  certainly  come,"  said  Victorin  to  his 
mother.  "  He  promised  me  he  would  when  we  parted  at  the 
Chamber." 

Lisbeth,  like  a  spider  in  the  middle  of  its  net,  gloated  over 
all  these  countenances.  Having  known  Victorin  and  Hortense 
from  their  birth,  their  faces  were  to  tier  like  panes  of  glass, 
through  which  she  could  read  their  young  souls.  Now,  from 
certain  stolen  looks  directed  by  Victorin  on  his  mother,  she 


184  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

saw  that  some  disaster  was  hanging  over  Adeline  which 
Victorin  hesitated  to  reveal.  The  famous  young  lawyer  had 
some  covert  anxiety.  His  deep  reverence  for  his  mother  was 
evident  in  the  regret  with  which  he  gazed  at  her. 

Hortense  was  evidently  absorbed  in  her  own  woes ;  for  a 
fortnight  past,  as  Lisbeth  knew,  she  had  been  suffering  the 
first  uneasiness  which  want  of  money  brings  to  honest  souls, 
and  to  young  wives  on  whom  life  has  hitherto  smiled,  and 
who  conceal  their  alarms.  Also  Lisbeth  had  immediately 
guessed  that  her  mother  had  given  her  no  money.  Adeline's 
delicacy  had  brought  her  so  low  as  to  use  the  fallacious  ex- 
cuses that  necessity  suggests  to  borrowers. 

Hortense's  absence  of  mind,  with  her  brother's  and  the 
baroness*  deep  dejection,  made  the  dinner  a  melancholy  meal, 
especially  with  the  added  chill  of  the  marshal's  utter  deafness. 
Three  persons  gave  a  little  life  to  the  scene :  Lisbeth,  Celes- 
tine,  and  Wenceslas.  Hortense's  affection  had  developed  the 
artist's  natural  liveliness  as  a  Pole,  the  somewhat  swaggering 
vivacity  and  noisy  high  spirits  that  characterize  these  French- 
men of  the  north.  His  frame  of  mind  and  the  expression  of 
his  face  showed  plainly  that  he  believed  in  himself,  and  that 
poor  Hortense,  faithful  to  her  mother's  training,  kept  all 
domestic  difficulties  to  herself. 

"You  must  be  content,  at  any  rate,"  said  Lisbeth  to  her 
young  cousin,  as  they  rose  from  table,  "since  your  mother 
has  helped  you  with  her  money?" 

"Mamma!"  replied  Hortense  in  astonishment.  "Oh, 
poor  mamma !  It  is  for  me  that  she  would  like  to  make 
money.  You  do  not  know,  Lisbeth,  but  I  have  a  horrible 
suspicion  that  she  works  for  it  in  secret." 

They  were  crossing  the  large,  dark  drawing-room  where 
there  were  no  candles,  all  following  Mariette,  who  was  carry- 
ing the  lamp  into  Adeline's  bedroom.  At  this  instant  Victorin 
just  touched  Lisbeth  and  Hortense  on  the  arm.  The  two 
women,  understanding  the  hint,  left  Wenceslas,  C6lestine,  the 


COUSIN  BETTY.  185 

marshal,  and  the  baroness  to  go  on  together,  and  remained 
standing  in  a  window-bay. 

"What  is  it,  Victorin  ?  "  said  Lisbeth.  "Some  disaster 
caused  by  your  father,  I  dare  wager." 

"Yes,  alas  !  "  replied  Victorin.  "A  money-lender  named 
Vauvinet  has  bills  of  my  father's  to  the  amount  of  sixty  thou- 
sand francs,  and  wants  to  prosecute.  I  tried  to  speak  of  the 
matter  to  my  father  at  the  Chamber,  but  he  would  not  under- 
stand me  J  he  almost  avoided  me.  Had  we  better  tell  my 
mother?" 

"No,  no,"  said  Lisbeth,  "she  has  too  many  troubles;  it 
would  be  a  death-blow ;  you  must  spare  her.  You  have  no 
idea  how  low  she  has  fallen.  But  for  your  uncle,  you  would 
have  found  no  dinner  here  this  evening." 

"Dear  heaven!  Victorin,  what  wretches  we  are!"  said 
Hortense  to  her  brother.  "  We  ought  to  have  guessed  what 
Lisbeth  has  told  us.     My  dinner  is  choking  me  !  " 

Hortense  could  say  no  more ;  she  covered  her  mouth  with 
her  handkerchief  to  smother  a  sob,  and  melted  into  tears. 

"I  told  the  fellow  Vauvinet  to  call  on  me  to-morrow," 
replied  Victorin,  "but  will  he  be  satisfied  by  my  guarantee 
on  a  mortgage?  I  doubt  it.  Those  men  insist  on  ready 
money  to  sweat  others  on  usurious  terms." 

"  Let  us  sell  out  of  the  Funds  !  "  said  Lisbeth  to  Hortense. 

"What  good  would  that  do?"  replied  Victorin.  "It 
would  bring  fifteen  or  sixteen  thousand  francs,  and  we  want 
sixty  thousand." 

"Dear  cousin!"  cried  Hortense,  embracing  Lisbeth  with 
the  enthusiasm  of  guilelessness. 

"No,  Lisbeth,  keep  your  little  fortune,"  said  Victorin, 
pressing  the  old  maid's  hand.  "I  shall  see  to-morrow  what 
this  man  would  be  up  to.  With  my  wife's  consent,  I  can  at 
least  hinder  or  postpone  the  prosecution — for  it  would  really 
be  frightful  to  see  my  father's  honor  impugned.  What  would 
the  War  Minister  say  ?     My  father's  salary,  which  he  pledged 


186  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

for  three  years,  will  not  be  released  before  the  month  of  De- 
cember, so  we  cannot  offer  that  as  a  guarantee.  This  Vau- 
vinet  has  renewed  the  bills  eleven  times ;  so  you  may  imagine 
what  my  father  must  pay  in  interest.     We  must  close  this  pit." 

"  If  only  Madame  Marneffe  would  throw  him  over  !  "  said 
Hortense  bitterly. 

"  Heaven  forbid  !  "  exclaimed  Victorin.  "  He  would  lake 
up  some  one  else ;  and  with  her,  at  any  rate,  the  worst  outlay 
is  over." 

What  a  change  in  children  formerly  so  respectful,  and  kept 
so  long  by  their  mother  in  blind  worship  of  their  father ! 
They  knew  him  now  for  what  he  was. 

"But  for  me,"  said  Lisbeth,  *'your  father's  ruin  would  be 
more  complete  than  it  is." 

"  Come  in  to  mamma,"  said  Hortense;  "she  is  very  sharp, 
and  will  suspect  something ;  as  our  kind  Lisbeth  says,  let  us 
keep  everything  from  her — let  us  be  cheerful." 

"Victorin,"  said  Lisbeth,  "you  have  no  notion  of  what 
your  father  will  be  brought  to  by  his  passion  for  women.  Try 
to  secure  some  future  resource  by  gefting  the  marshal  to 
marry  me.  Say  something  about  it  this  evening ;  I  will  leave 
early  on  purpose." 

Victorin  went  into  the  bedroom. 

"And  you,  poor  little  thing!  "  said  Lisbeth  in  an  under- 
tone to  Hortense,  "  what  can  you  do? " 

"  Come  to  dinner  with  us  to-morrow,  and  we  will  talk  it 
over,"  answered  Hortense.  "I  do  not  know  which  way  to 
turn ;  you  know  how  hard  life  is,  and  you  will  advise  me." 

While  the  whole  family  with  one  consent  tried  to  persuade 
the  marshal  to  marry,  and  while  Lisbeth  was  making  her  way 
home  to  the  Rue  Vanneau,  one  of  those  incidents  occurred 
which,  in  such  women  as  Madame  Marneffe,  are  a  stimulus  to 
vice  by  compelling  them  to  exert  their  energy  and  every 
resource  of  depravity.     One  fact,  at  any  rate,  must  however 


COUSIN  BETTY.  187 

be  acknowledged  :  life  in  Paris  is  too  full  for  vicious  persons  to 
do  wrong  instinctively  and  unprovoked ;  vice  is  only  a  weapon 
of  defense  against  aggressors — that  is  all. 

Madame  Marneffe's  drawing-room  was  full  of  her  faithful 
admirers,  and  she  had  just  started  the  whist-tables,  when  the 
footman,  a  pensioned  soldier  recruited  by  the  baron,  an- 
nounced— 

"Monsieur  le  Baron  Montez  de  Montejanos." 

Valerie's  heart  jumped,  but  she  hurried  to  the  door,  ex- 
claiming— 

"  My  cousin  !  "  and  then,  as  she  met  the  Brazilian,  she  whis- 
I)ered  him — 

**  You  are  my  relation — or  all  is  at  an  end  between  us ! 
And  so  you  were  not  wrecked,  Henri?  "  she  went  on  audibly, 
as  she  led  him  to  the  fire.  *'  I  heard  you  were  lost,  and  have 
mourned  for  you  these  three  years." 

"  How  are  you,  my  good  fellow?"  said  Marneffe,  offering 
his  hand  to  the  stranger,  whose  get-up  was  indeed  that  of  a 
Brazilian  and  a  millionaire. 

Monsieur  le  Baron  Henri  Montez  de  Montejanos,  to  whom 
the  climate  of  the  equator  had  given  the  color  and  stature  we 
expect  to  see  in  Othello  on  the  stage,  had  an  alarming  look  of 
gloom,  but  it  was  a  merely  pictorial  illusion ;  for,  sweet  and 
affectionate  by  nature,  he  was  predestined  to  be  the  victim  that 
a  strong  man  often  is  to  a  weak  woman.  The  scorn  expressed 
in  his  countenance,  the  muscular  strength  of  his  stalwart  frame, 
all  his  physical  powers  were  shown  only  to  his  fellow-men  ;  a 
form  of  flattery  which  women  appreciate,  nay,  which  so  intoxi- 
cates them,  that  every  man  with  his  mistress  on  his  arm  assumes 
a  matador  swagger  that  provokes  a  smile.  Very  well  set  up, 
in  a  closely  fitting  blue  coat  with  solid  gold  buttons,  in  black 
trousers,  spotless  patent  evening  shoes,  and  gloves  of  a  fash- 
ionable hue,  the  only  Brazilian  touch  in  the  baron's  costume 
was  a  large  diamond,  worth  about  a  hundred  thousand  francs, 
which  blazed  like  a  star  on  a  handsome  blue  silk  cravat,  tucked 


188  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

into  a  white  vest  in  such  a  way  as  to  show  corners  oi  a  fabu- 
lously fine  shirt-front. 

His  brow,  bossy,  like  that  of  a  satyr,  a  sign  of  tenacity  in  his 
passions,  was  crowned  by  thick  jet-black  hair  like  a  virgin 
forest,  and  under  it  flashed  a  pair  of  hazel  eyes,  so  wild-look- 
ing as  to  suggest  that  before  his  birth  his  mother  must  have 
been  scared  by  a  jaguar. 

This  fine  specimen  of  the  Portuguese  race  in  Brazil  took  his 
stand  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  in  an  attitude  that  showed 
familiarity  with  Paris  manners  ;  holding  his  hat  in  one  hand, 
his  elbow  resting  on  the  velvet-covered  shelf,  he  bent  over 
Madame  MarnefTe,  talking  to  her  in  an  undertone,  and  troub- 
ling himself  very  little  about  the  dreadful  people  who,  in  his 
opinion,  were  so  very  much  in  the  way. 

This  fashion  of  taking  the  stage,  with  the  Brazilian's  atti- 
tude and  expression,  gave,  alike  to  Crevel  and  to  the  baron, 
an  identical  shock  of  curiosity  and  anxiety.  Both  were  struck 
by  the  same  impression  and  the  same  surmise.  And  the 
manoeuvre  suggested  in  each  by  their  very  genuine  passion  was 
so  comical  in  its  simultaneous  results,  that  it  made  everybody 
smile  who  was  sharp  enough  to  read  its  meaning.  Crevel,  a 
tradesman  and  storekeeper  to  the  backbone,  though  a  mayor 
of  Paris,  unluckily,  was  a  little  slower  to  move  than  his  rival 
partner,  and  this  enabled  the  baron  to  read  at  a  glance  Cre- 
vel's  involuntary  self-betrayal.  This  was  a  fresh  arrow  to 
rankle  in  the  amorous  old  man's  heart,  and  he  resolved  to 
have  an  explanation  from  Valerie. 

"This  evening,"  said  Crevel  to  himself,  too,  as  he  sorted 
his  hand,  "  I  must  know  where  I  stand." 

"You  have  a  heart!"  cried  Marneffe.  "You  have  just 
revoked." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Crevel,  trying  to  withdraw  his 
card.  "This  baron  seems  to  me  very  much  in  the  way,"  he 
went  on,  thinking  to  himself.  "  If  Valerie  carries  on  with 
my  baron,  well  and  good — it  is  a  means  to  my  revenge,  and  I 


COUSIN  BETTY.  189 

can  get  rid  of  him  if  I  choose ;  but  as  for  this  cousin  !  He  is 
one  baron  too  many ;  I  do  not  mean  to  be  made  a  fool  of.  I 
will  know  how  they  are  related." 

That  evening,  by  one  of  those  strokes  of  luck  which  come 
to  pretty  women,  Valerie  was  charmingly  dressed.  Her  white 
bosom  gleamed  under  a  lace  tucker  of  rusty  white,  which 
showed  off  the  satin  texture  of  her  beautiful  shoulders — for 
Parisian  women,  heaven  knows  how,  have  some  way  of  pre- 
serving their  fine  flesh  and  remaining  slender.  She  wore  a 
black  velvet  gown  that  looked  as  if  it  might  at  any  moment 
slip  off  her  shoulders,  and  her  hair  was  dressed  with  lace  and 
drooping  flowers.  Her  arms,  not  fat  but  dimpled,  were 
graced  by  deep  ruffles  to  her  sleeves.  She  was  like  a  luscious 
fruit  coquettishly  served  in  a  handsome  dish,  making  the  knife- 
blade  long  to  be  cutting  it,  and  whose  juices  eat  into  the  steel 
of  the  knife  that  cuts  it. 

"Valerie,"  the  Brazilian  was  saying  in  her  ear,  "I  have 
come  back  faithful  to  you.  My  uncle  is  dead ;  I  am  twice  as 
rich  as  I  was  when  I  went  away.  I  mean  to  live  and  die  in 
Paris,  for  you  and  with  you." 

*'  Lower,  Henri,  I  implore  you " 

**  Pooh !  I  mean  to  speak  to  you  this  evening,  even  if  I 
should  have  to  pitch  all  these  creatures  out  of  window,  espe- 
cially as  I  have  lost  two  days  in  looking  for  you.  I  shall  stay 
to  the  last.     I  may,  I  suppose  ?  " 

Valerie  smiled  at  her  adopted  cousin,  and  said — 

"  Remember  that  you  are  the  son  of  my  mother's  sister, 
who  married  your  father  during  Junot's  campaign  in  Portu- 
gal." 

*'  What,  I,  Montez  de  Montejanos,  great-grandson  of  a  con- 
queror of  Brazil !     Tell  a  lie  !  " 

"  Hush,  lower,  or  we  shall  never  meet  again." 

"Pray,  why?" 

*'  Marneffe,  like  all  dying  wretches,  who  always  take  up 
some  last  whim,  has  a  revived  passion  for  me " 


190  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

''That  cur?"  said  the  Brazilian,  who  knew  his  Marneflfe; 
"I  will  settle  him!  " 

"What  violence!  " 

"And  where  did  you  get  all  this  splendor?"  the  Brazilian 
went  on,  just  struck  by  the  magnificence  of  the  apartment. 

She  began  to  laugh. 

"  Henri !  what  bad  taste  !  "  said  she. 

She  had  felt  two  burning  flashes  of  jealousy  which  had 
moved  her  so  far  as  to  make  her  look  at  the  two  souls  in 
purgatory.  Crevel,  playing  against  Baron  Hulot  and  Monsieur 
Coquet,  had  MarnefTe  for  his  partner.  The  game  was  even, 
because  Crevel  and  the  baron  were  equally  absent-minded, 
and  made  blunder  after  blunder.  Thus,  in  one  instant,  the 
old  men  both  confessed  the  passion  which  Valerie  had  per- 
suaded them  to  keep  secret  for  the  past  three  years ;  but  she 
too  had  failed  to  hide  the  joy  in  her  eyes  at  seeing  the  man 
who  had  first  taught  her  heart  to  beat,  the  object  of  her  first 
love.  The  rights  of  such  happy  mortals  survive  as  long  as  the 
woman  lives  over  whom  they  have  acquired  them. 

With  these  three  passions  at  her  side — one  supported  by  the 
insolence  of  wealth,  the  second  by  the  claims  of  possession, 
and  the  third  by  youth,  strength,  fortune,  and  priority — 
Madame  Marneffe  preserved  her  coolness  and  presence  of 
mind,  like  General  Bonaparte  when,  at  the  siege  of  Mantua, 
he  had  to  fight  two  armies,  and  at  the  same  time  maintain  the 
blockade. 

Jealousy,  distorting  Hulot's  face,  made  him  look  as  terrible 
as  tlie  late  Marshal  Montcornet  leading  a  cavalry  charge 
against  a  Russian  square.  Being  such  a  handsome  man,  he 
had  never  known  any  ground  for  jealousy,  any  more  than 
Murat  knew  what  it  was  to  be  afraid.  He  had  always  felt 
sure  that  he  should  triumph.  His  rebuff  by  Josepha,  the  first 
he  had  ever  met,  he  ascribed  to  her  love  of  money ;  *'  he  was 
conquered  by  millions,  and  not  by  an  abortion,"  he  would 
say  when  speaking  of  the  Due  d'H^rouville.     And  now,  in 


COUSIN  BETTY,  191 

one  instant,  the  poison  and  delirium  tliat  tlie  mad  passion 
sheds  in  a  flood  had  rushed  to  his  heart.  He  kept  turning 
from  the  whist-table  toward  the  fireplace  with  an  action  d  la 
Mirabeau ;  and  as  he  laid  down  his  cards  to  cast  a  challenging 
glance  at  the  Brazilian  and  Valerie,  the  rest  of  the  company 
felt  the  sort  of  alarm  mingled  with  curiosity  that  is  caused  by 
evident  violence  ready  to  break  out  at  any  moment.  The 
sham  cousin  stared  at  Hulot  as  he  might  have  looked  at  some 
big  Chinese  mandarin. 

This  state  of  things  could  not  last ;  it  was  bound  to  end  in 
some  tremendous  outbreak.  Marneffe  was  as  much  afraid  of 
Hulot  as  Crevel  was  of  Marneffe,  for  he  was  anxious  not  to  die 
a  mere  clerk.  Men  marked  for  death  believe  in  life  as  galley- 
slaves  believe  in  liberty ;  this  man  was  bent  on  being  a  first- 
class  clerk  at  any  cost.  Thoroughly  frightened  by  the  panto- 
mime of  the  baron  and  Crevel,  he  rose,  said  a  itvf  words  in 
his  wife's  ear,  and  then,  to  the  surprise  of  all,  Valerie  went 
into  the  adjoining  bedroom  with  the  Brazilian  and  her  hus- 
band. 

"  Did  Madame  Marneffe  ever  speak  to  you  of  this  cousin  of 
hers?"  said  Crevel  to  Hulot. 

"  Never  !  "  replied  the  baron,  getting  up.  "  That  is  enough 
for  this  evening,"  said  he.  "I  have  lost  two  louis* — there 
they  are." 

He  threw  the  two  gold-pieces  on  to  the  table,  and  seated 
himself  on  the  sofa  with  a  look  which  everybody  else  took 
as  a  hint  to  go.  Monsieur  and  Madame  Coquet,  after  ex- 
changing a  few  words,  left  the  room,  and  Claud  Vignon,  in 
despair,  followed  their  example.  These  two  departures  were 
a  hint  to  less  intelligent  persons,  who  now  found  that  they 
were  not  wanted.  The  baron  and  Crevel  were  left  together, 
and  spoke  never  a  word.  Hulot  at  last,  ignoring  Crevel,  went 
on  tiptoe  to  listen  at  the  bedroom  door ;  but  he  bounded  back 
with  a  prodigious  jump,  for  Marneffe  opened  the  door  and 
*  Louis  d'or ;  value  about  five  dollars  each. 


192  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

appeared  with  a  calm  face,  astonished  to  find  only  the  two 
men. 

**  And  the  tea?  "  said  he. 

"Where  is  Valerie?  "  replied  the  baron  in  a  rage. 

"My  wife?"  said  Marneffe.  "She  is  gone  upstairs  to 
speak  to  mademoiselle  your  cousin.  She  will  come  down 
directly." 

"And  why  has  she  deserted  us  for  that  stupid  creature?'* 
asked  Hulot. 

"Well,"  said  Marneffe,  " Mademoiselle Lisbeth  came  back 
from  dining  with  the  baroness  with  an  attack  of  indigestion, 
and  Mathurine  asked  Valerie  for  some  tea  for  her,  so  ray  wife 
went  up  to  see  what  was  the  matter.'' 

"  And  ^^r  cousin  ?  " 

"He  is  gone." 

"  Do  you  really  believe  that  ?  "  said  the  baron. 

"  I  have  seen  him  to  his  carriage,"  replied  Marneffe,  with 
a  hideous  smirk. 

The  wheels  of  a  departing  carriage  were  audible  in  the 
street.  The  baron  counting  Marneffe  for  nothing,  went 
upstairs  to  Lisbeth.  An  idea  flashed  through  him  such  as  the 
heart  sends  to  the  brain  when  it  is  on  fire  with  jealousy. 
Marneffe's  baseness  was  so  well  known  to  him  that  he  could 
imagine  the  most  degrading  connivance  between  husband  and 
wife. 

"  What  has  become  of  all  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  ?  "  said 
Marneffe,  finding  himself  alone  with  Crevel. 

"When  the  sun  goes  to  bed,  the  cocks  and  hens  follow 
suit,"  said  Crevel.  "  Madame  Marneffe  disappeared,  and 
her  adorers  departed.  Will  you  play  a  game  of  piquet?" 
added  Crevel,  who  meant  to  remain. 

He,  too,  believed  that  the  Brazilian  was  in  the  house. 

Monsieur  Marneffe  agreed.  The  mayor  was  a  match  for 
the  baron.  Simply  by  playing  cards  with  the  husband  he 
could  stay  on  indefinitely  j  and  Marneffe,  since  the  suppression 


COUSIN  BETTY.  198 

of  the  public  tables,  was  quite  satisfied  with  the  more  limited 
opportunities  of  private  play. 

Baron  Hulot  went  quickly  up  to  Lisbeth's  apartment,  but 
the  door  was  locked,  and  the  usual  inquiries  through  the  door 
took  up  time  enough  to  enable  the  two  light-handed  and 
cunning  women  to  arrange  the  scene  of  an  attack  of  indiges- 
tion with  the  accessories  of  tea.  Lisbeth  was  in  such  pain 
that  Valerie  was  very  much  alarmed,  and  consequently  hardly 
paid  any  heed  to  the  baron's  furious  entrance.  Indisposition 
is  one  of  the  screens  most  often  placed  by  women  to  ward  off 
a  quarrel.  Hulot  peeped  about,  here  and  there,  but  could  see 
no  spot  in  Cousin  Betty's  room  where  a  Brazilian  might  lie 
hidden. 

"Your  indigestion  does  honor  to  my  wife's  dinner, 
Lisbeth,"  said  he,  scrutinizing  her,  for  Lisbeth  was  perfectly 
well,  trying  to  imitate  the  hiccough  of  spasmodic  indigestion 
as  she  drank  her  tea. 

"How  lucky  it  is  that  dear  Betty  should  be  living  under 
my  roof!  "  said  Madame  Marneffe.  "But  for  me,  the  poor 
thing  would  have  died." 

"You  look  as  if  you  only  half  believed  it,"  added  Lisbeth, 
turning  to  the  baron,  "  and  that  would  be  a  shame " 

"Why?"  asked  the  baron.  "  Do  you  know  the  purpose 
of  my  visit?  " 

And  he  leered  at  the  door  of  a  dressing-closet  from  which 
the  key  had  been  withdrawn. 

*'Are  you  talking  Greek?"  said  Madame  Marneffe,  with 
an  appealing  look  of  misprized  tenderness  and  devotedness. 

"  But  it  is  all  through  you,  my  dear  cousin ;  yes,  it  is  your 
doing  that  I  am  in  such  a  state,"  said  Lisbeth  vehemently. 

This  speech  diverted  the  baron's  attention ;  he  looked  at 
the  old  maid  with  the  greatest  astonishment. 

"You  know  I  am  devoted  to  you,"  said  Lisbeth.  "  I  am 
here,  that  says  everything.  I  am  wearing  out  the  last  shreds 
of  my  strength  in  watching  over  your  interests,  since  they  are 
13 


194  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

one  with  our  dear  Valerie's.  Her  house  costs  one-tenth  of 
what  any  other  does  that  is  kept  on  the  same  scale.  But  for 
me,  cousin,  instead  of  two  thousand  francs  a  month,  you 
would  be  obliged  to  spend  three  or  four  thousand." 

"I  know  all  that,"  replied  the  baron,  out  of  patience; 
"you  are  our  protectress  in  many  ways,"  he  added,  turning 
to  Madame  Marneffe  and  putting  his  arm  around  her  neck. 
**  Is  she  not,  my  pretty  sweet  ?  " 

"On  my  honor,"  exclaimed  Valerie,  "I  believe  you  are 
gone  mad  !  " 

"Well,  you  cannot  doubt  my  attachment,"  said  Lisbeth. 
*'  But  I  am  also  very  fond  of  my  Cousin  Adeline,  and  I  found 
her  in  tears.  She  has  not  seen  you  for  a  month.  Now  that  is 
really  too  bad;  you  leave  my  poor  Adeline  without  a  sou. 
Your  daughter  Hortense  almost  died  of  it  when  she  was  told 
that  it  is  thanks  to  your  brother  that  we  had  any  dinner  at  all. 
There  was  not  even  bread  in  your  house  this  day. 

"Adeline  is  heroically  resolved  to  keep  her  sufferings  to 
herself.  She  said  to  me,  *  I  will  do  as  you  have  done  ! '  The 
speech  went  to  my  heart ;  and  after  dinner,  as  I  thought  of 
what  my  cousin  had  been  in  i8ii,  and  of  what  she  is  in  1841 
— thirty  years  after — I  had  a  violent  indigestion.  I  fancied  I 
should  get  over  it ;  but  when  I  got  home,  I  thought  I  was 
dying " 

"  You  see,  Valerie,  to  what  my  adoration  of  you  has  brought 
me!      To  crime — domestic  crime !  " 

"  Oh  !  I  was  wise  never  to  marry  !  "  cried  Lisbeth,  with 
savage  joy.  "  You  are  a  kind,  good  man  ;  Adeline  is  a  per- 
fect angel; — and  this  is  the  reward  of  her  blind  devotion." 

"  An  elderly  angel !  "  said  Madame  Marneffe  softly,  as  she 
looked  half-tenderly,  half-mockingly,  at  her  Hector,  who  was 
gazing  at  her  as  an  examining  judge  gazes  at  the  accused  be- 
fore him. 

"  My  poor  wife  1  "  said  Hulot.  "  For  more  than  nine 
months  I  have  given  her  no  money,  though  I  find  it  for  you, 


COUSIN  BETTY.  195 

Val6rie  ;  but  at  what  a  cost !  No  one  else  will  ever  love  you 
so,  and  what  torments  you  inflict  on  me  in  return  !  " 

** Torments?"  she  echoed.  "Then  what  do  you  call 
happiness?  " 

**  I  do  not  yet  know  on  what  terms  you  have  been  with  this 
sham  cousin  whom  you  never  mentioned  to  me,"  said  the 
baron,  paying  no  heed  to  Valerie's  interjection.  "But  when 
he  came  in  I  felt  as  if  a  penknife  had  been  stuck  into  my  heart. 
Blinded  I  may  be,  but  I  am  not  blind.  I  could  read  his  eyes, 
and  yours.  In  short,  from  under  that  ape's  eyelids  there 
flashed  sparks  that  he  flung  at  you — and  your  eyes !  Oh ! 
you  have  never  looked  at  me  so,  never !  As  to  this  mystery, 
Valerie,  it  shall  be  cleared  up.  You  are  the  only  woman  who 
ever  made  me  know  the  meaning  of  jealousy,  so  you  need  not 
be  surprised  by  what  I  say.  But  another  mystery  which  has 
rent  its  cloud,  and  it  seems  to  me  infamous " 

"Go  on,  go  on,"  said  Valerie. 

"  It  is  that  Crevel,  that  square  lump  of  flesh  and  stupidity, 
is  in  love  with  you,  and  that  you  accept  his  attentions  with  so 
good  a  grace  that  the  idiot  flaunts  his  passion  before  every- 
body." 

"  Only  three  !  Can  you  discover  no  more  ?  "  asked  Madame 
Marneffe. 

**  There  may  be  more  !  "  retorted  the  baron. 

"If  Monsieur  Crevel  is  in  love  with  me,  he  is  in  his  rights 
as  a  man  after  all ;  if  I  favored  his  passion,  that  would  indeed 
be  the  act  of  a  coquette,  or  of  a  woman  who  would  leave  much 
to  be  desired  on  your  part.  Well,  love  me  as  you  find  me,  or 
let  me  alone.  If  you  restore  me  to  freedom,  neither  you  nor 
Monsieur  Crevel  will  ever  enter  my  doors  again.  But  I  will 
take  up  with  my  cousin,  just  to  keep  my  hand  in,  in  those 
charming  habits  you  suppose  me  to  indulge.  Good-by,  Mon- 
sieur le  Baron  Hulot." 

She  rose,  but  the  baron  took  her  by  the  arm  and  made  her 
sit  down  again.     The  old  man  could  not  do  without  Valerie, 


196  THE   POOR  PARENTS. 

She  had  become  more  imperatively  indispensable  to  him  than 
the  necessaries  of  life ;  he  preferred  remaining  in  uncertainty 
to  having  any  proof  of  Valerie's  infidelity, 

"  My  dearest  Valerie,"  said  he,  "  do  you  not  see  how  miser- 
able I  am  ?  I  only  ask  you  to  justify  yourself.  Give  me  suffi- 
cient reasons " 

''Well,  go  downstairs  and  wait  for  mej  for  I  suppose  you 
do  not  wish  to  look  on  at  the  various  ceremonies  required  by 
your  cousin's  state." 

Hulot  slowly  turned  away. 

"You  old  profligate,"  cried  Lisbeth,  "you  have  not  even 
asked  me  how  your  children  are  ?  What  are  you  going  to  do 
for  Adeline?  I,  at  any  rate,  will  take  her  my  savings  to- 
morrow." 

"You  owe  your  wife  white  bread  to  eat  at  least,"  said 
Madame  Marneffe,  smiling. 

The  baron,  without  taking  offense  at  Lisbeth's  tone,  as 
despotic  as  Josepha's,  got  out  of  the  room,  only  too  glad  to 
escape  so  importunate  a  question. 

The  door  bolted  once  more,  the  Brazilian  came  out  of  the 
dressing-closet,  where  he  had  been  waiting,  and  he  appeared 
with  his  eyes  full  of  tears,  in  a  really  pitiable  condition. 
Montez  had  heard  everything. 

"  Henri,  you  must  have  ceased  to  love  me,  I  know  it  !  " 
said  Madame  Marneffe,  hiding  her  face  in  her  handkerchief 
and  bursting  into  tears. 

It  was  the  outcry  of  real  affection.  The  cry  of  a  woman's 
despair  is  so  convincing  that  it  wins  the  forgiveness  that  lurks 
at  the  bottom  of  every  lover's  heart — when  she  is  young  and 
pretty,  and  wears  a  gown  so  low  that  she  could  slip  out  at  the 
top  and  stand  in  the  garb  of  Eve. 

"  But  why,  if  you  love  me,  do  you  not  leave  everything  for 
my  sake  ?  "  asked  the  Brazilian. 

This  South  American  born,  being  logical,  as  men  are  who 


COUSIN  BETTY.  197 

have  lived  the  life  of  nature,  at  once  resumed  the  conversation 
at  the  point  where  it  had  been  broken  off,  putting  his  arm 
round  Valerie's  waist. 

*'  Why  ?  "  she  repeated,  gazing  up  at  Henri,  whom  she  sub- 
jugated at  once  by  a  look  charged  with  passion,  "why,  my 
dear  boy,  I  am  married ;  we  are  in  Paris,  not  in  the  savanna, 
the  pampas,  the  backwoods  of  America.  My  dear  Henri,  my 
first  and  only  love,  listen  to  me.  That  husband  of  mine,  a 
second  clerk  in  the  War  Ofl&ce,  is  bent  on  being  a  head-clerk 
and  officer  of  the  Legion  of  Honor;  can  I  help  his  being 
ambitious?  Now  for  the  very  reason  that  made  him  leave  us 
our  liberty — nearly  four  years  ago,  do  you  remember,  you  bad 
boy? — he  now  abandons  me  to  Monsieur  Hulot.  I  cannot 
get  rid  of  that  dreadful  official,  who  snorts  like  a  grampus, 
who  has  fins  in  his  nostrils,  who  is  sixty-three  years  old,  and 
who  has  grown  ten  years  older  by  dint  of  trying  to  be  young  j 
who  is  so  odious  to  me  that  the  very  day  when  Marneffe  is 
promoted,  and  gets  his  cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor " 

"  How  much  more  will  your  husband  get  then  ?  " 

"A  thousand  crowns." 

"  I  will  pay  him  as  much  in  an  annuity,"  said  Baron  Mont^z. 
"We  will  leave  Paris  and  go " 

"Where?"  said  Valerie,  with  one  of  the  pretty  sneers  by 
which  a  woman  makes  fun  of  a  man  she  is  sure  of.  "  Paris  is 
the  only  place  where  we  could  live  happy.  I  care  too  much 
for  your  love  to  risk  seeing  it  die  out  in  a  tete-a-tiie  in  the 
wilderness.  Listen,  Henri,  you  are  the  only  man  I  care  for 
in  the  whole  world.  Write  that  down  clearly  on  your  tiger- 
skull." 

For  women,  when  they  have  made  a  sheep  of  a  man,  always 
tell  him  that  he  is  a  lion  with  a  will  of  iron. 

"  Now,  attend  to  me.  Monsieur  Marneffe  has  not  five  years 
to  live ;  he  is  rotten  to  the  marrow  of  his  bones.  He  spends 
seven  months  of  the  twelve  in  swallowing  drugs  and  decoc- 
tions ;  he  lives  wrapped  in  flannel ;  in  short,  as  the  doctor  says, 


198  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

he  lives  under  the  scythe,  and  may  be  cut  off  at  any  moment. 
An  illness  that  would  not  harm  another  man  would  be  fatal 
to  him  ;  his  blood  is  corrupt,  his  life  undermined  at  the  root. 
For  five  years  I  have  never  allowed  him  to  kiss  me — he  is 
poisonous  !  Some  day,  and  the  day  is  not  far  off,  I  shall  be  a 
widow.  Well,  then,  I — who  have  already  had  an  offer  from 
a  man  with  sixty  thousand  francs  a  year,  I  who  am  as  com- 
pletely mistress  of  that  man  as  I  am  of  this  lump  of  sugar — I 
swear  to  you  that  if  you  were  as  poor  as  Hulot  and  as  foul  as 
Marneffe,  if  you  beat  me  even,  still  you  are  the  only  man 
I  will  have  for  a  husband,  the  only  man  I  love,  or  whose 
name  I  will  ever  bear.  And  I  am  ready  to  give  any  pledge  of 
my  love  that  you  may  require." 

"Well,  then,  to-night " 

"But  you,  son  of  the  South,  my  splendid  jaguar,  come  ex- 
pressly for  me  from  the  virgin  forest  of  Brazil,"  said  she, 
taking  his  hand  and  kissing  and  fondling  it,  *'  have  some  con- 
sideration for  the  poor  creature  you  mean  to  make  your  wife. 
Shall  I  be  your  wife,  Henri?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  Brazilian,  overpowered  by  this  unbridled 
volubility  of  passion.     And  he  knelt  at  her  feet. 

"Well,  then,  Henri,"  said  Valerie,  taking  his  two  hands 
and  looking  straight  into  his  eyes,  "swear  to  me  now,  in  the 
presence  of  Lisbeth,  my  best  and  only  friend,  my  sister — that 
you  will  make  me  your  wife  at  the  end  of  my  year's  widow- 
hood." 

"  I  swear  it." 

"  That  is  not  enough.  Swear  by  your  mother's  ashes  and 
eternal  salvation,  swear  by  the  Virgin  Mary  and  by  all  your 
hopes  as  a  Catholic  !  " 

Valerie  knew  that  the  Brazilian  would  keep  that  oath  even 
if  she  should  have  fallen  into  the  direst  and  foulest  social 
degradation. 

The  baron  solemnly  swore  it,  his  nose  almost  touching 
Valerie's  white   bosom,  and  his  eyes  spellbound.     He  was 


COUSIN  BETTY.  199 

drunk,  drunk  as  a  man  is  when  he  sees  the  woman  he  loves 
once  more,  after  a  sea  voyage  of  a  hundred  and  twenty  days. 

**  Good.  Now  be  quite  easy.  And  in  Madame  Marneffe 
respect  the  future  Baroness  de  Montejanos.  You  are  not  to 
spend  a  sou  upon  me ;  I  forbid  it.  Stay  here  in  the  outer 
room ;  sleep  on  the  sofa.  I  myself  will  come  and  tell  you 
when  you  may  move.  We  will  breakfast  together  to-morrow 
morning,  and  you  can  be  leaving  at  about  one  o'clock  as  if 
you  had  come  to  call  at  noon.  There  is  nothing  to  fear  ;  the 
gatekeepers  love  me  as  much  as  if  they  were  my  father  and 
mother.     Now  I  must  go  down  and  make  tea." 

She  beckoned  Lisbeth,  who  followed  her  out  on  to  the  land- 
ing.    There  Valerie  whispered  in  the  old  maid's  ear — 

"  My  darkie  has  come  back  too  soon.  I  shall  die  if  I  can- 
not avenge  you  on  Hortense  !  " 

"  Make  your  mind  easy,  my  pretty  little  devil !  "  said  Lis- 
beth, kissing  her  forehead.  "  Love  and  revenge  on  the  same 
track  will  never  lose  the  game.  Hortense  expects  me  to- 
morrow ;  she  is  in  beggary.  For  a  thousand  francs  you  may 
have  a  thousand  kisses  from  Wenceslas." 

On  leaving  Valerie,  Hulot  had  gone  down  to  the  porter's 
lodge  and  made  a  sudden  invasion  there. 

"Madame  Olivier?" 

On  hearing  the  imperious  tone  of  this  address,  and  seeing 
the  action  by  which  the  baron  emphasized  it,  Madame  Olivier 
came  out  into  the  courtyard  as  far  as  the  baron  led  her. 

"You  know  that  if  any  one  can  help  your  son  to  a  connec- 
tion by-and-by,  it  is  I ;  it  is  owing  to  me  that  he  is  already 
third  clerk  in  a  notary's  ofRce,  and  is  finishing  his  studies." 

**  Yes,  Monsieur  le  Baron  ;  and  indeed,  sir,  you  may  de- 
pend on  our  gratitude.  Not  a  day  passes  that  I  do  not  pray 
to  God  for  Monsieur  le  Baron's  happiness." 

"  Not  so  many  words,  my  good  woman,"  said  Hulot,  "  but 
deeds " 

"What  can  I  do,  sir?"  asked  Madame  Olivier. 


200  THE  POOR  PARENTS 

"A  man  came  here  to-night  in  a  carriage.  Do  you  know 
him?" 

Madame  Olivier  had  recognized  Montez  well  enough.  How 
could  she  have  forgotten  him  ?  In  the  Rue  du  Doyenn6  the 
Brazilian  had  always  slipped  a  five-franc  piece  into  her  hand 
as  he  went  out  in  the  morning,  rather  too  early.  If  the  baron 
had  applied  to  Monsieur  Olivier,  he  would  perhaps  have 
learned  all  he  wanted  to  know.  But  Olivier  was  in  bed.  In 
the  lower  orders  the  woman  is  not  merely  the  superior  of  the 
man — she  almost  always  has  the  upper  hand.  Madame 
Olivier  had  long  since  made  up  her  mind  as  to  which  side  to 
take  in  case  of  a  collision  between  her  two  benefactors;  she 
regarded  Madame  Marneffe  as  the  stronger  power. 

"  Do  I  know  him?  "  she  repeated.  "No,  indeed,  no.  I 
never  saw  him  before  !  " 

"What!  Did  Madame  MarnefFe's  cousin  never  go  to  see 
her  when  she  was  living  in  the  Rue  du  Doyenn6  ?  " 

"Oh!  Was  it  her  cousin ?"  cried  Madame  Olivier.  *'I 
dare  say  he  did  come,  but  I  did  not  know  him  again.  Next 
time,  sir,  I  will  look  at  him " 

"  He  will  be  coming  out,"  said  Hulot,  hastily  interrupting 
Madame  Olivier. 

"He  has  left,"  said  Madame  Olivier,  understanding  the 
situation.     "  The  carriage  is  gone." 

"  Did  you  see  him  go  ?  " 

"As  plainly  as  I  see  you.  He  told  his  servant  to  drive  to 
the  embassy." 

This  audacious  statement  wrung  a  sigh  of  relief  from  the 
baron ;  he  took  Madame  Olivier's  hand  and,  having  squeezed 
it,  said : 

"Thank  you,  my  good  Madame  Olivier.  But  that  is  not 
all.     Monsieur  Crevel  ?  " 

"  Monsieur  Crevel  ?  What  can  you  mean,  sir  ?  I  do  not 
understand,"  said  Madame  Olivier. 

"  Listen  to  me.     He  is  Madame  Marneffe's  lover " 


COUSIN  BETTY.  201 

"  Impossible,  Monsieur  le  Baron  ;  impossible,"  said  she, 
clasping  her  hands. 

"  He  is  Madame  Marneffe's  lover,"  the  baron  repeated  very 
positively.  "  How  do  they  manage  it ?  I  don't  know;  but 
I  mean  to  know,  and  you  are  to  find  out.  If  you  can  put  me 
on  the  tracks  of  this  intrigue,  your  son  is  a  notary." 

"Don't  you  fret  yourself  so,  Monsieur  le  Baron,"  said  Ma- 
dame Olivier.  "Madame  cares  for  you,  and  for  no  one  but  you ; 
her  maid  knows  that  for  true,  and  we  say,  between  her  and 
me,  that  you  are  the  luckiest  man  in  this  world — for  you  know 
what  madame  is — ^just  perfection. 

"She  gets  up  at  ten  every  morning;  then  she  breakfasts. 
Well  and  good.  After  that  she  takes  an  hour  or  so  to  dress ; 
that  carries  her  on  till  two ;  then  she  goes  for  a  walk  in  the 
Tuileries  in  the  sight  of  all  men,  and  she  is  always  in  by  four 
to  be  ready  for  you.  She  lives  like  clockwork.  She  keeps 
no  secrets  from  her  maid,  and  Reine  keeps  nothing  from  me, 
you  may  be  sure.  Reine  can't  if  she  would — along  of  my  son, 
for  she  is  very  sweet  upon  him.  So,  you  see,  if  madame  had 
any  intimacy  with  Monsieur  Crevel,  we  should  be  bound  to 
know  it." 

The  baron  went  upstairs  again  with  a  beaming  countenance, 
convinced  that  he  was  the  only  man  in  the  world  to  that 
shameless  slut,  as  treacherous,  but  as  lovely  and  as  engaging, 
as  a  siren. 

Crevel  and  Marneffe  had  begun  a  second  rubber  at  piquet. 
Crevel  was  losing,  as  a  man  must  who  is  not  giving  his 
thoughts  to  his  game.  Marneffe,  who  knew  the  cause  of  the 
mayor's  absence  of  mind,  took  unscrupulous  advantage  of  it ; 
he  looked  at  the  cards  in  reserve,  and  discarded  accordingly ; 
thus,  knowing  his  adversary's  hand,  he  played  to  beat  him. 
The  stake  being  a  franc  a  point,  he  had  already  robbed  the 
mayor  of  thirty  francs  when  Hulot  came  in. 

"Heyday!  "  said  he,  amazed  to  find  no  company.  "Are 
you  alone  ?     Where  is  everybody  gone  ?  " 


202  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

"Your  pleasant  temper  put  them  all  to  flight,"  said  Crevel, 
savagely. 

"No,  it  was  my  wife's  cousin,"  replied  Marneffe.  "The 
ladies  and  gentlemen  supposed  that  Valerie  and  Henri  might 
have  something  to  say  to  each  other  after  three  years*  separa- 
tion, and  they  very  discreetly  retired.  If  I  had  been  in  the 
room,  I  would  have  kept  them ;  but  then,  as  it  happens,  it 
would  have  been  a  mistake,  for  Lisbeth,  who  always  comes 
down  to  make  tea  at  half-past  ten,  was  taken  ill,  and  that 
upset  everything " 

"Then  is  Lisbeth  really  unwell?"  asked  Crevel  in  a  fury. 

"  So  I  was  told,"  replied  Marneffe,  with  the  heartless  indif- 
ference of  a  man  to  whom  women  have  ceased  to  exist. 

The  mayor  looked  at  the  clock ;  and,  calculating  the  time, 
the  baron  seemed  to  have  spent  forty  minutes  in  Lisbeth's 
rooms.  Hector's  jubilant  expression  seriously  incriminated 
Valerie,  Lisbeth,  and  himself. 

"I  have  just  seen  her;  she  is  in  great  pain,  poor  soul!  " 
said  the  baron. 

"Then  the  sufferings  of  others  must  afford  you  much  joy, 
my  friend,"  retorted  Crevel  with  acrimony,  "for  you  have 
come  down  with  a  face  that  is  positively  beaming.  Is  Lisbeth 
likely  to  die?  For  your  daughter,  they  say,  is  her  heiress. 
You  are  not  like  the  same  man.  You  left  this  room  looking 
like  the  Moor  of  Venice,  and  you  come  back  with  the  air  of 
Saint-Preux !  I  wish  I  could  see  Madame  Marneffe's  face  at 
this  minute " 

"And  pray,  what  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  "  said  Marneffe  to 
Crevel,  packing  his  cards  and  laying  them  down  in  front  of 
him. 

A  light  kindled  in  the  eyes  of  this  man,  decrepit  at  the  age 
of  forty-seven ;  a  faint  color  flushed  his  flaccid  cold  cheeks, 
his  ill-furnished  mouth  was  half  open,  and  on  his  blackened 
lips  a  sort  of  foam  gathered,  thick,  and  as  white  as  chalk. 
This  fury  in  such  a  helpless  wretch,  whose  life  hung  on  a 


COUSIN  BETTY.  203 

thread,  and  who  .n  a  duel  would  risk  nothing  while  Crevel 
had  everything  to  lose,  frightened  the  mayor. 

"I  said,"  repeated  Crevel,  "that  I  should  like  to  see 
Madame  Marneffe's  face.  And  with  all  the  more  reason  since 
yours,  at  this  moment,  is  most  unpleasant.  On  my  honor, 
you  are  horribly  ugly,  my  dear  Marneffe " 

"  Do  you  know  that  you  are  very  uncivil  ?  " 

**A  man  who  has  won  thirty  francs  of  me  in  forty-five  min- 
utes cannot  look  handsome  in  my  eyes." 

"Ah,  if  you  had  but  seen  me  seventeen  years  ago  !  "  replied 
the  clerk. 

"You  were  so  good-looking?  "  retorted  Crevel. 

"  That  was  my  ruin  ;  now,  if  I  had  been  like  you — I  might 
be  a  mayor  and  a  peer.'* 

"Yes,"  said  Crevel,  with  a  sneer,  "you  have  been  too 
much  in  the  wars  ;  and  of  the  two  forms  of  metal  that  may 
be  earned  by  worshiping  the  god  of  trade,  you  have  taken 
the  worse — the  dross  !  *  And  Crevel  roared  with  laughter. 
Though  Marneffe  could  take  offense  if  his  honor  were  in  peril, 
he  always  took  these  rough  pleasantries  in  good  part ;  they 
were  the  small  coin  of  conversation  between  him  and  Crevel. 

"  The  daughters  of  Eve  cost  me  dear,  no  doubt ;  but,  by 
the  powers  !   '  Short  and  sweet '  is  my  motto," 

"  '  Long  and  happy  '  is  more  to  my  mind,"  returned  Crevel. 

Madame  Marneffe  now  came  in ;  she  saw  that  her  husband 
was  at  cards  with  Crevel,  and  only  the  baron  in  the  room 
beside ;  a  mere  glance  at  the  municipal  dignitary  showed  her 
the  frame  of  mind  he  was  in,  and  her  line  of  conduct  was  at 
once  decided  on. 

"Marneffe,  ray  dear  boy,"  said  she,  leaning  on  her  hus- 
band's shoulder,  and  passing  her  pretty  fingers  through  his 
dingy  gray  hair,  but  without  succeeding  in  covering  his  bald 
head  with  it,  "it  is  very  late  for  you ;  you  ought  to  be  in  bed. 

*  This  dialogue  is  garnished  with  pans  for  which  it  is  difficult  to  find 
any  English  equivalent. 


204  THE   POOR   PARENTS. 

To-morrow,  you  know,  you  must  dose  yourself  by  the  doctor's 
orders.  Reine  will  give  you  your  herb  tea  at  seven.  If  you 
wish  to  live,  give  up  your  game." 

**We  will  play  it  out  up  to  five  points,"  said  Marneffe  to 
Crevel. 

"Very  good — I  have  scored  two,"  replied  the  mayor. 

"  How  long  will  it  take  you  ?  " 

"Ten  minutes,"  said  Marneffe. 

"It  is  already  eleven  o'clock,"  replied  Valerie.  "  Really, 
Monsieur  Crevel,  one  might  fancy  you  meant  to  kill  my  hus- 
band.    Make  haste,  at  any  rate." 

This  double-barreled  speech  made  Crevel  and  Hulot  smile, 
and  even  Marneffe  himself.  Valerie  sat  down  to  talk  to 
Hector, 

"You  must  leave,  my  dearest,"  said  she  in  Hulot's  ear. 
"  Walk  up  and  down  the  Rue  Vanneau,  and  come  in  again 
when  you  see  Crevel  go  out." 

"I  would  rather  leave  this  room  and  go  into  your  room 
through  the  dressing-room  door.  You  could  tell  Reine  to  let 
me  in." 

"Reine  is  upstairs  attending  to  Lisbeth," 

"Well,  suppose  then  I  go  up  to  Lisbeth's  rooms?"  in- 
quired the  baron. 

Danger  hemmed  in  Valerie  on  every  side ;  she  foresaw  a 
discussion  with  Crevel,  and  could  not  allow  Hulot  to  be  in 
her  room,  where  he  could  hear  all  that  went  on.  And  the 
Brazilian  was  upstairs  with  Lisbeth. 

"  Really,  you  men,  when  you  have  a  notion  in  your  head, 
you  would  burn  a  house  down  to  get  into  it !  "  exclaimed  she. 
"  Lisbeth  is  not  in  a  fit  state  to  admit  you.  Are  you  afraid  of 
catching  cold  in  the  street?  Be  off  there — or  good-by  to 
you." 

"Good-evening,  gentlemen,"  said  the  baron  to  the  other 
two. 

Hulot,  when  piqued  in  his  old  man's  vanity,  was  bent  on 


COUSIN  BETTY.  206 

proving  that  he  could  play  the  young  man  by  waiting  for  the 
happy  hour  in  the  open  air,  and  he  went  away. 

Marneffe  bade  his  wife  good-night,  taking  her  hands  with  a 
semblance  of  devotion.  Valerie  pressed  her  husband's  hand 
with  a  significant  glance,  conveying — 

"Get  rid  of  Crevel." 

"Good-night,  Crevel,"  said  Marneffe.  "I  hope  you  will 
not  stay  long  with  Valerie.  Yes  !  I  am  jealous — a  little  late 
in  the  day,  but  it  has  me  hard  and  fast.  I  shall  come  back  to 
see  if  you  are  gone." 

"We  have  a  little  business  to  discuss,  but  I  shall  not  stay 
long,"  said  Crevel. 

"  Speak  low.  What  is  it?  "  said  Valerie,  raising  her  voice, 
and  looking  at  him  with  a  mingled  expression  of  haughtiness 
and  scorn. 

Crevel,  as  he  met  this  arrogant  stare,  though  he  was  doing 
Valerie  important  services,  and  had  hoped  to  plume  himself 
on  the  fact,  was  at  once  reduced  to  submission. 

"That   Brazilian "    he   began,    but,    overpowered    by 

Valerie's  fixed  look  of  contempt,  he  broke  ofiF. 

"What  of  him?"  said  she. 

"That  cousin " 

"Is  no  cousin  of  mine,"  said  she.  "He  is  my  cousin  to 
the  world  and  to  Monsieur  Marneffe.  And  if  he  were  my 
lover,  it  would  be  no  concern  of  yours.  A  tradesman  who 
pays  a  v/oman  to  be  revenged  on  another  man  is,  in  my  opin- 
ion, beneath  the  man  who  pays  her  for  love  of  her.  You  did 
not  care  for  me ;  all  you  saw  in  me  was  Monsieur  Hulot's 
mistress.  You  bought  me  as  a  man  buys  a  pistol  to  kill  his 
adversary.     I  wanted  your  money — I  accepted  the  bargain." 

"  But  you  have  not  carried  it  out,"  said  Crevel,  the  trades- 
man once  more. 

"You  want  Baron  Hulot  to  be  told  that  you  have  robbed 
him  of  his  mistress,  to  pay  him  out  for  having  robbed  you  of 
Jos^pha?     Nothing  can   more   clearly   prove  your   baseness. 


206  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

You  say  you  love  a  woman,  you  treat  her  like  a  duchess,  and 
then  you  want  to  degrade  her?  Well,  my  good  fellow,  and 
you  are  right.  This  woman  is  no  match  for  Josepha.  That 
young  person  has  the  courage  of  her  disgrace,  while  I — I  am 
a  hypocrite,  and  deserve  to  be  publicly  whipped.  Alas ! 
Josepha  is  protected  by  her  cleverness  and  her  wealth.  I 
have  nothing  to  shelter  me  but  my  reputation  ;  I  am  still 
the  worthy  and  blameless  wife  of  a  plain  citizen ;  if  you 
create  a  scandal,  what  is  to  become  of  me?  If  I  were  rich, 
then  indeed ;  but  my  income  is  fifteen  thousand  francs  a  year 
at  most,  I  suppose." 

"  Much  more  than  that,"  said  Crevel.  "  I  have  doubled 
your  savings  in  these  last  two  months  by  investing  in  the 
Orleans  railway." 

"Well,  a  position  in  Paris  begins  with  fifty  thousand. 
And  you  certainly  will  not  make  up  to  me  for  the  position  I 
should  surrender.  What  was  my  aim  ?  I  want  to  see  Mar- 
neffe  a  first-class  clerk ;  he  will  then  draw  a  salary  of  six 
thousand  francs.  He  has  been  twenty-seven  years  in  his 
office ;  within  three  years  I  shall  have  a  right  to  a  pension  of 
fifteen  hundred  francs  when  he  dies.  You,  to  whom  I  have 
been  entirely  kind,  to  whom  I  have  given  your  fill  of  happiness 
— you  cannot  wait !  And  that  is  what  men  call  love .'  "  she 
exclaimed. 

"Though  I  began  with  an  ulterior  purpose,"  said  Crevel, 
"  I  have  become  your  poodle.  You  trample  on  my  heart,  you 
crush  me,  you  stultify  me,  and  I  love  you  as  I  never  loved  in 
my  life.  Valerie,  I  love  you  as  much  as  I  love  my  Cdestine. 
I  am  capable  of  anything  for  your  sake.  Listen,  instead  of 
coming  twice  a  week  to  the  Rue  du  Dauphin,  come  three 
times." 

*'  Is  that  all !  You  are  getting  quite  young  again,  my  dear 
boy!" 

"Only  let  me  pack  off  Hulot,  humiliate  him,  rid  you  of 
him,"  said  Crevel,  not  heeding  her  impertinence!     "Have 


COUSIN  BETTY.  207 

nothing  to  say  to  the  Brazilian,  be  mine  alone;  you  shall  not 
repent  it.  To  begin  with,  I  will  give  you  eight  thousand 
francs  a  year,  secured  by  bond,  but  only  as  an  annuity ;  I  will 
not  give  you  the  capital  till  the  end  of  five  years'  constancy, 
then " 

"  Always  a  bargain  !  A  tradesman  can  never  learn  to  give. 
You  want  to  stop  for  refreshments  on  the  road  of  love — in 
the  form  of  Government  bonds  !  Bah  !  shopman,  pomatum 
seller !  you  put  a  price  on  everything  !  Hector  told  me  that 
the  Due  d'Herouville  gave  Josepha  a  bond  for  thirty  thousand 
francs  a  year  in  a  packet  of  sugar-almonds  !  And  I  am  worth 
six  of  Josepha. 

"Oh!  to  be  loved!"  she  went  on,  twisting  her  ringlets 
round  her  fingers,  and  looking  at  herself  in  the  glass. 
"  Henri  loves  me.  He  would  smash  you  like  a  fly  if  I  winked 
at  him  !  Hulot  loves  me ;  he  leaves  his  wife  in  beggary ! 
As  for  you,  go,  my  good  man,  be  the  worthy  father  of  a 
family.  You  have  three  hundred  thousand  francs  over  and 
above  your  fortune,  only  to  amuse  yourself,  a  hoard,  in  fact, 
and  you  think  of  nothing  but  increasing  it " 

"For  you,  Valerie,  since  I  offer  you  half,"  said  he,  falling 
on  his  knees. 

"  What,  still  here  !  "  cried  Marneffe,  hideous  in  his  dress- 
ing-gown.    "  What  are  you  about  ?  " 

"  He  is  begging  my  pardon,  my  dear,  for  an  insulting  pro- 
posal he  has  dared  to  make  me.  Unable  to  obtain  my  con- 
sent, my  gentleman  proposed  to  pay  me " 

Crevel  only  longed  to  vanish  into  the  cellar,  through  a  trap, 
as  is  done  on  the  stage. 

"Get  up,  Crevel,"  said  Marneffe,  laughing,  "you  are 
ridiculous.  I  can  see  by  Valerie's  manner  that  my  honor  is 
in  no  danger." 

"Go  to  bed  and  sleep  in  peace,"  said  Madame  Marneffe. 

"  Isn't  she  clever?  "  thought  Crevel.  "  She  has  saved  me. 
She  is  adorable  ! ' ' 


208  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

As  Marneffe  disappeared,  the  mayor  took  Valerie's  hands 
and  kissed  them,  leaving  on  them  the  traces  of  tears. 

"It  shall  all  stand  in  your  name,"  he  said. 

"That  is  true  love,"  she  whispered  in  his  ear.  "Well, 
love  for  love.  Hulot  is  below,  in  the  street.  The  poor  old 
thing  is  waiting  to  return  when  I  place  a  candle  in  one  of  the 
windows  of  my  bedroom.  I  give  you  leave  to  tell  him  that 
you  are  the  man  I  love ;  he  will  refuse  to  believe  you ;  take 
him  to  the  Rue  du  Dauphin,  give  him  every  proof,  crush  him ; 
I  allow  it — I  order  it !  I  am  tired  of  that  old  seal ;  he  bores 
me  to  death.  Keep  your  man  all  night  in  the  Rue  du  Dau- 
phin, grill  him  over  a  slow  fire,  be  revenged  for  the  loss  of 
Josepha.  Hulot  may  die  of  it,  perhaps,  but  we  shall  save  his 
wife  and  children  from  utter  ruin.  Madame  Hulot  is  working 
for  her  bread " 

"  Oh  !  poor  woman  !  On  my  word,  it  is  quite  shocking !  " 
exclaimed  Crevel,  his  natural  feeling  coming  to  the  top. 

"  If  you  love  me,  C^lestin,"  said  she  in  Crevel's  ear,  which 
she  touched  with  her  lips,  "  keep  him  there,  or  I  am  done  for. 
Marneffe  is  suspicious ;  Hector  has  a  key  of  the  outer  gate, 
and  will  certainly  come  back." 

Crevel  clasped  Madame  Marneffe  to  his  heart,  and  went 
away  in  the  seventh  heaven  of  delight.  Valerie  fondly  es- 
corted him  to  the  landing,  and  then  followed  him,  like  a 
woman  magnetized,  down  the  stairs  to  the  very  bottom. 

"  My  Valerie,  go  back,  do  not  compromise  yourself  before 
the  porters.  Go  back;  my  life,  my  treasure,  all  is  yours. 
Go  in,  my  duchess  !  " 

"Madame  Olivier,"  Valerie  called  gently  when  the  gate 
was  closed.  ,! 

"Why,  roadame  !  You  here?"  said  the  woman  in  bewil- 
derment. 

"Bolt  the  gates  at  top  and  bottom,  and  let  no  one  in,"  said 
Mme.  Marneffe. 

"Very  good,  madam^/' 


COUSIN  BETTY.  209 

Having  barred  the  gate,  Madame  Olivier  told  of  the  bribe 
that  the  War  Office  chief  had  tried  to  offer  her. 

"  You  behaved  like  an  angel,  my  dear  Olivier  ;  we  will  talk 
of  that  to-morrow." 

Valerie  flew  like  an  arrow  to  the  fourth  floor,  tapped  three 
times  at  Lisbeth's  door,  and  then  went  down  to  her  room, 
where  she  gave  her  instructions  to  Mademoiselle  Reine,  for  a 
woman  must  make  the  most  of  the  opportunity  when  a  Montez 
arrives  from  Brazil, 

"  By  heaven  !  only  a  woman  of  the  world  is  capable  of  such 
love,"  said  Crevel  to  himself.  *'  How  she  came  down  those 
stairs,  lighting  them  up  with  her  eyes,  following  me  !  Never 
did  Josepha — Josepha !  she  is  cag-mag  !"  cried  the  ex-bagman. 
"  "What  have  I  said  ?  Cag-mag — why,  I  might  have  let  the 
word  slip  out  at  the  Tuileries  !  I  can  never  do  any  good 
unless  Valerie  educates  me — and  I  was  so  bent  on  being  a 
gentleman.  What  a  woman  she  is  !  She  upsets  me  like  a  fit 
of  the  colic  when  she  looks  at  me  coldly.  What  grace ! 
What  wit !  Never  did  Josepha  move  me  so.  And  what 
perfection  when  you  come  to  know  her !  Ha,  there  is  my 
man  !  " 

He  perceived  in  the  gloom  of  the  Rue  de  Babylone  the  tall, 
somewhat  stooping  figure  of  Hulot,  stealing  along  close  to 
some  buildings  in  course  of  construction,  and  he  went  straight 
up  to  him. 

"Good-morning,  baron,  for  it  is  past  midnight,  my  dear 
fellow.  What  the  devil  are  you  doing  here  ?  You  are  airing 
yourself  under  a  pleasant  drizzle.  That  is  not  wholesome  at 
our  time  of  life.  Will  you  let  me  give  you  a  little  piece  of 
advice  ?  Let  each  of  us  go  home ;  for,  between  you  and  me, 
you  will  not  see  the  candle  in  the  window." 

The  last  words  made  the  baron  suddenly  aware  that  he  was 
sixty-three,  and  that  his  cloak  was  wet. 

"Who  on  earth  told  you ?  "  he  began. 

14 


210  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

"  Valerie,  of  course,  our  Valerie,  who  means  henceforth  to 
be  my  Valerie.  We  are  even  now,  baron ;  we  will  play  off 
the  tie  when  you  please.  You  have  nothing  to  conoplain  of; 
you  know,  I  always  stipulated  for  the  right  of  taking  my 
revenge ;  it  took  you  three  months  to  rob  me  of  Josepha ;  I 

took  Valerie  from  you  in We  will  say  no  more  about 

that.     Now  I  mean  to  have  her  all  to  myself.     But  we  can  be 
very  good  friends,  all  the  same." 

"  Crevel,  no  jesting,"  said  Hulot,  in  a  voice  choked  by 
rage.     **  It  is  a  matter  of  life  and  death." 

"Bless  me,  is  that  how  you  take  it!  Baron,  do  you  not 
remember  what  you  said  to  me  the  day  of  Hortense's  mar- 
riage :  '  Can  two  old  buffers  like  us  quarrel  over  a  petticoat  ? 
It  is  too  low,  too  common.*  We  are  Regency,  we  agreed. 
Pompadour,  blue-doublets,  eighteenth-century,  quite  the  Mar6- 
chal  Richelieu,  Louis  XV,,  nay,  and  I  may  say,  connois- 
seurs in  women  !  " 

Crevel  might  have  gone  on  with  his  string  of  literary  allu- 
sions ;  the  baron  heard  him  as  a  deaf  man  listens  when  he  is 
but  half  deaf.  But,  seeing  in  the  gaslight  the  ghastly  pallor 
of  his  face,  the  triumphant  mayor  stopped  short.  This  was, 
indeed,  a  thunderbolt  after  Madame  Olivier's  asseverations 
and  Valerie's  parting  glance. 

"Good  God!  And  there  are  so  many  other  women  in 
Paris  !  "  he  said  at  last. 

"That  is  what  I  told  you  when  you  took  Jos6pha,"  said 
Crevel. 

"  Look  here,  Crevel,  it  is  impossible.  Give  me  some  proof. 
Have  you  a  key,  as  I  have,  to  let  yourself  in  ?  " 

And  having  reached  the  house,  the  baron  put  the  key  into 
the  lock ;  but  the  gate  was  immovable ;  he  tried  in  vain  to 
open  it. 

"  Do  not  make  a  noise  in  the  streets  at  night,"  said  Crevel 
coolly.  *^*  I  tell  you  baron,  I  have  far  better  keys  than  you 
can  show." 


COUSIN  BETTY.  211 

"Proofs!  give  me  proof!"  cried  the  baron,  almost  crazy 
with  exasperation. 

"Come,  and  you  shall  have  them,"  said  Crevel. 

And  in  obedience  to  Valerie's  instructions,  he  led  the  baron 
away  toward  the  quay,  down  the  Rue  Hillerin-Bertin.  The 
unhappy  baron  walked  on,  as  a  merchant  walks  on  the  day 
before  he  stops  payment ;  he  was  lost  in  conjectures  as  to  the 
reasons  of  the  depravity  buried  in  the  depths  of  Valerie's 
heart,  and  still  believed  himself  the  victim  of  some  practical 
joke.  As  they  crossed  the  Pont  Royal,  life  seemed  to  him  so 
blank,  so  utterly  a  void,  and  so  out  of  joint  from  his  financial 
difficulties,  that  he  was  within  an  ace  of  yielding  to  the  evil 
prompting  that  bid  him  fling  Crevel  into  the  river  and  throw 
himself  in  after. 

On  reaching  the  Rue  du  Dauphin,  which  had  not  yet  been 
widened,  Crevel  stopped  before  a  door  in  a  wall.  It  opened 
into  a  long  corridor  paved  with  black-and-white  marble,  and 
serving  as  an  entrance-hall,  at  the  end  of  which  there  was  a 
flight  of  stairs  and  a  doorkeeper's  lodge,  lighted  from  an  inner 
courtyard,  as  is  often  the  case  in  Paris.  This  courtyard,  which 
was  shared  with  another  house,  was  oddly  divided  into  two 
unequal  portions.  Crevel's  little  house,  for  he  owned  it,  had 
additional  rooms  with  a  glass  skylight,  built  out  on  to  the  ad- 
joining plot,  under  condition  that  it  should  have  no  story 
added  above  the  first  floor,  so  that  the  structure  was  entirely 
hidden  by  the  lodge  and  the  projecting  mass  of  the  staircase. 

This  rear  building  had  long  served  as  a  storeroom,  back- 
shop,  and  kitchen  to  one  of  the  stores  facing  the  street.  Crevel 
had  cut  off  these  three  rooms  from  the  rest  of  the  first  floor, 
and  Grindot  had  transformed  them  into  an  inexpensive  private 
residence.  There  were  two  ways  in — from  the  front,  through 
the  store  of  a  furniture-dealer,  to  whom  Crevel  let  it  at  a  low 
rental,  and  only  from  month  to  month,  so  as  to  be  able  to  get 
rid  of  him  in  case  of  his  telling  tales,  and  also  through  a  door 
^j  the  wall  of  the  passage,  so  ingeniously  hidden  as  to  bq 


212  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

almost  invisible.  The  little  suite,  comprising  a  dining-room, 
drawing-room,  and  bedroom,  all  lighted  from  above,  and 
standing  partly  on  Crevel's  ground  and  partly  on  his  neigh- 
bor's, was  very  difficult  to  findr.  With  the  exception  of  the 
second-hand  furniture-dealer,  the  tenants  knew  nothing  of  the 
existence  of  this  little  paradise. 

The  doorkeeper,  paid  to  keep  Crevel's  secrets,  was  a  capital 
cook.  So  Monsieur  le  Maire  could  go  in  and  out  of  his  inex- 
pensive retreat  at  any  hour  of  the  night  without  any  fear  of 
being  spied  upon.  By  day,  a  lady,  dressed  as  Paris  women 
dress  to  go  shopping,  and  having  a  key,  ran  no  risk  in  coming 
to  Crevel's  lodgings ;  she  would  stop  to  look  at  the  cheapened 
goods,  ask  the  price,  go  into  the  store,  and  come  out  again, 
without  exciting  the  smallest  suspicion  if  any  one  should  hap- 
pen to  meet  her. 

As  soon  as  Crevel  had  lighted  the  candles  in  the  sitting- 
room,  the  baron  was  surprised  at  the  elegance  and  refinement 
it  displayed.  The  perfumer  had  given  the  architect  a  free 
hand,  and  Grindot  had  done  himself  credit  by  fittings  in  the 
Pompadour  style,  which  had  in  fact  cost  sixty  thousand 
francs. 

"  What  I  want,"  said  Crevel  to  Grindot,  "  is  that  a  duchess, 
if  I  brought  one  there,  should  be  surprised  at  it." 

He  wanted  to  have  a  perfect  Parisian  Eden  for  his  Eve,  his 
*'  real  lady,"  his  Valerie,  his  duchess. 

**  There  are  two  beds,"  said  Crevel  to  Hulot,  showing  him 
a  sofa  that  could  be  made  wide  enough  by  pulling  out  a 
drawer.  **  This  is  one,  the  other  is  in  the  bedroom.  We 
can  both  spend  the  night  here." 

"  Proof!  "  was  all  the  baron  could  say. 

Crevel  took  a  flat  candlestick  and  led  Hulot  into  the  adjoin- 
ing room,  where  he  saw,  on  a  sofa,  a  superb  dressing-gown 
belonging  to  Val6rie,  which  he  had  seen  her  wear  in  the  Rue 
Vanneau,  to  display  it  before  wearing  it  in  Crevel's  little 
apartment.     The  mayor  pressed  the  spring  of  a  little  writing- 


COUSIN  BETTY.  213 

table  of  inlaid  work,  known  as  a  bonheur-du-Jour,  and  took  out 
of  it  a  letter  that  he  handed  to  the  baron. 

"Read  that,"  said  he. 

The  councilor  read  these  words  written  in  pencil : 

**  I  have  waited  in  vain,  you  old  wretch  !  A  woman  of  my 
quality  does  not  expect  to  be  kept  waiting  by  a  retired  per- 
fumer. There  was  no  dinner  ordered — no  cigarettes.  I  will 
make  you  pay  for  this ! ' 

"Well,  is  that  her  writing?" 

"  Good  God  !  "  gasped  Hulot,  sitting  down  in  dismay.  *'  I 
recognize  all  the  things  she  uses — her  caps,  her  slippers.  Why, 
how  long  since ?  " 

Crevel  nodded  that  he  understood,  and  took  a  packet  of 
bills  out  of  the  little  inlaid  cabinet. 

"  You  can  see,  old  man.  I  paid  the  decorators  in  Decem- 
ber, 1838.  In  October,  two  months  before,  this  charming 
little  place  was  first  used." 

Hulot  bent  his  head. 

"How  the  devil  do  you  manage  it?  I  know  how  she 
spends  every  hour  of  her  day." 

"How  about  her  walk  in  the  Tuileries?"  said  Crevel, 
rubbing  his  hands  in  triumph. 

"What  then?  "  said  Hulot,  mystified. 

"Your  lady-love  comes  to  the  Tuileries,  she  is  supposed  to 
be  airing  herself  from  one  till  four.  But,  hop,  skip,  and 
jump,  and  she  is  here.  You  know  your  Moliere?  Well, 
baron,  there  is  nothing  imaginary  in  your  title."* 

Hulot,  left  without  a  shred  of  doubt,  sat  sunk  in  ominous 
silence.  Catastrophes  lead  intelligent  and  strong-minded 
men  to  be  philosophical.  The  baron,  morally,  was  at  this 
moment  like  a  man  trying  to  find  his  way  by  night  through  a 
forest.  This  gloomy  taciturnity  and  the  change  in  that  de- 
*  Cocu,  cuckold. 


214  THE  POOR   PARENTS. 

jected  countenance  made  Crevel  very  uneasy,  for  he  did  not 
wish  the  death  of  his  colleague. 

"  As  I  said,  old  fellow,  we  are  now  even ;  let  us  play  for 
the  odd  trick.  Will  you  play  off  the  tie  by  nook  and  by 
crook?     Come  !  " 

"Why,"  said  Hulot,  talking  to  himself — "why  is  it  that 
out  of  ten  pretty  women  at  least  seven  are  false?  " 

But  the  baron  was  too  much  upset  to  answer  his  own  ques- 
tion. Beauty  is  the  greatest  of  human  gifts  for  power.  Every 
power  that  has  no  counterpoise,  no  autocratic  control,  leads 
to  abuses  and  folly.  Despotism  is  the  madness  of  power ;  in 
women  the  despot  is  caprice. 

"You  have  nothing  to  complain  of,  my  good  friend;  you 
have  a  beautiful  wife,  and  she  is  virtuous." 

"I  deserve  my  fate,"  said  Hulot.  "I  have  undervalued 
my  wife  and  made  her  miserable,  and  she  is  an  angel !  Oh? 
my  poor  Adeline  !  you  are  avenged  !  She  suffers  in  solitude 
and  silence,  and  she  is  worthy  of  my  love ;  I  ought — for  she 

is  still  charming,  fair  and  girlish  even But  was  there 

ever  a  woman  known  more  base,  more  ignoble,  more  villain- 
ous than  this  Valerie  ? ' ' 

"She  is  a  good-for-nothing  slut,"  said  Crevel;  "a  hussy 
that  deserves  whipping  on  the  Place  du  ChStelet.  But,  my 
dear  Canillac,  though  we  are  such  blades,  so  regular  de  Riche- 
lieu, Louis  XV.,  Pampadour,  Madame  du  Barry,  gay  dogs, 
and  everything  that  is  most  eighteenth-century,  there  is  no 
longer  a  lieutenant  of  police." 

"  How  can  we  make  them  love  us?"  Hulot  wondered  to 
himself  without  heeding  Crevel. 

"It  is  sheer  folly  in  us  to  expect  to  be  loved,  my  dear 
fellow,"  said  Crevel.  "We  can  only  be  endured;  for 
Madame  Marneffe  is  a  hundred  times  more  profligate  than 
Jos^pha." 

"And  more  avaricious!  She  costs  me  a  hundred  and 
ninety-two  thousand  francs  a  year  !  ' '  cried  Hulot. 


COUSIN  BETTY.  215 

"And  how  many  centimes!"  sneered  Crevel,  with  tlie 
insolence  of  a  financier  who  scorns  so  small  a  sum. 

"  You  do  not  love  her,  that  is  very  evident,"  said  the  baron 
dolefully. 

"  I  have  had  enough  of  her,"  replied  Crevel,  "  for  she  has 
had  more  than  three  hundred  thousand  francs  of  mine  !  " 

"Where  is  it?  Where  does  it  all  go?"  said  the  baron, 
clasping  his  head  in  his  hands. 

"  If  we  had  come  to  an  agreement,  like  the  simple  young 
men  who  club  together  to  keep  some  cheap  girl,  she  would 
have  cost  us  less." 

"  That  is  an  idea  !  "  replied  the  baron.  "  But  she  would 
still  be  cheating  us  ;  for,  my  burly  friend,  what  do  you  say  to 
this  Brazilian?" 

"Ay,  old  sly  fox,  you  are  right,  we  are  swindled  like — like 
shareholders!"  said  Crevel.  "All  such  women  are  an 
unlimited  liability,  an(^we  the  sleeping  partners." 

"  Then  it  was  she  who  told  you  about  the  candle  in  the 
window  !  " 

"  My  good  man,"  replied    Crevel,  striking   an   attitude, 

"she  has  fooled  us  both.     Valerie  is  a She  told  me  to 

keep  you  here.  Now  I  see  it  all.  She  has  got  her  Brazilian  1 
Oh,  I  have  done  with  her,  for,  if  you  hold  her  hands,  she 
would  find  a  way  to  cheat  you  with  her  feet !  There  !  she  is 
a  minx,  a  jade,  a  wanton  !" 

"  She  is  lower  than  a  prostitute,"  said  the  baron.  "  Josepha 
and  Jenny  Cadine  were  in  their  rights  when  they  were  false 
to  us;  they  make  a  trade  of  their  charms." 

"  But  she,  who  affects  the  saint — the  prude  !  "  said  Crevel. 
"I  tell  you  what,  Hulot,  do  you  go  back  to  your  wife;  your 
money  matters  are  not  looking  well ;  I  have  heard  talk  of 
certain  notes  of  hand  given  to  a  low  usurer  whose  special  line 
of  business  is  lending  to  these  sluts,  a  man  named  Vauvinet. 
For  my  part,  I  am  cured  of  your  'real  ladies.'  And,  after 
all,  at  our  time  of  life  what  do  we  want  of  these  swindling 


216  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

hussies,  who,  to  be  honest,  cannot  help  playing  us  false? 
You  have  white  hair  and  false  teeth ;  I  am  of  the  shape  of 
Silenus.  I  shall  go  in  for  saving.  Money  never  deceives 
one.  Though  the  Treasury  is  indeed  open  to  all  the  world, 
twice  a  year  it  pays  you  interest,  and  this  woman  swallows  it. 
With  you,  my  worthy  friend,  as  Gubetta,  as  my  partner  in  the 
concern,  I  might  have  resigned  myself  to  a  shady  bargain — 
no,  a  philosophical  calm.  But  with  a  Brazilian  who  has  pos- 
sibly smuggled  in  some  doubtful  colonial  produce " 

*'  Woman  is  an  inexplicable  creature  !  "  said  Hulot. 

"I  can  explain  her,"  said  Crevel.  "We  are  old;  the 
Brazilian  is  young  and  handsome." 

"Yes;  that,  I  own,  is  true,"  said  Hulot;  "we  are  older 
than  we  were.  But,  my  dear  fellow,  how  is  one  to  do  without 
these  pretty  creatures — seeing  them  undress,  twist  up  their  hair, 
smile  cunningly  through  their  fingers  as  they  screw  up  their 
curl-papers,  put  on  all  their  airs  and  graces,  tell  all  their  lies, 
declare  that  we  don't  love  them  when  we  are  worried  with 
business;  and  they  cheer  us  in  spite  of  everything." 

"  Yes,  by  the  powers.  It  is  the  only  pleasure  in  life !  " 
cried  Crevel.  "When  a  saucy  little  mug  smiles  at  you  and 
says,  *  My  old  dear,  you  don't  know  how  nice  you  are  !  I  am 
not  like  other  women,  I  suppose,  who  go  crazy  over  mere 
boys  with  goats'  beards,  smelling  of  smoke,  and  as  coarse  as 
serving-men  !  For  in  their  youth  they  are  so  insolent !  They 
come  in  and  they  bid  you  good-morning,  and  out  they  go ! 
I,  whom  you  think  such  a  flirt,  I  prefer  a  man  of  fifty  to  these 
brats.  A  man  who  will  stick  by  me,  who  is  devoted,  who 
knows  a  woman  is  not  to  be  picked  up  every  day,  and  appreci- 
ates us.  That  is  what  I  love  you  for,  you  old  monster ! '  and 
they  fill  up  these  avowals  with  little  pettings  and  prettinesses 

and Faugh  !  they  are  as  false  as  the  bills  on  the  H6tel 

de  Ville." 

"A  lie  is  sometimes  pleasanter  than  the  truth,"  said  Hulot, 
remembering  sundry  bewitching  scenes  called  up  by  Crevel, 


COUSIN  BETTY.  217 

who  mimicked  Valerie.  **  They  are  obliged  to  act  upon  their 
lies,  to  sew  spangles  on  their  stage  frocks " 

**  And  they  are  ours  after  all,  the  lying  jades  !  "  said  Crevel 
coarsely. 

"Valerie  is  a  witch,"  said  the  baron.  "She  can  turn  an 
old  man  into  a  young  one." 

"Oh  yes!"  said  Crevel,  "she  is  an  eel  that  wriggles 
through  your  hands ;  but  the  prettiest  eel,  as  white  and  sweet 
as  sugar,  as  amusing  as  Arnal — and  ingenious  !     Ah  ! " 

"Yes,  she  is  full  of  fun,"  said  Hulot,  who  had  now  quite 
forgotten  his  wife. 

The  colleagues  went  to  bed  the  best  friends  in  the  world, 
reminding  each  other  of  Valerie's  perfections,  the  tones  of  her 
voice,  her  kittenish  ways,  her  movements,  her  fun,  her  sallies 
of  wit,  and  of  affection  ;  for  she  was  an  artist  in  love,  and  had 
charming  impulses,  as  tenors  may  sing  a  scena  better  one  day 
than  another.  And  they  fell  asleep  cradled  in  tempting  and 
diabolical  visions  lighted  by  the  fires  of  hell. 

At  nine  o'clock  next  morning  Hulot  went  off  to  the  War 
Office,  Crevel  had  business  out  of  town ;  they  left  the  house 
together,  and  Crevel  held  out  his  hand  to  the  baron,  saying : 

"To  show  that  there  is  no  ill-feeling.  For  we,  neither  of 
us,  will  have  anything  more  to  say  to  Madame  Marneffe?" 

"Oh,  this  is  the  end  of  everything,"  replied  Hulot  with  a 
sort  of  horror. 

By  half-past  ten  Crevel  was  mounting  the  stairs,  four  at  a 
time,  up  to  Madame  MarnefTe's  apartment.  He  found  the 
infamous  wretch,  the  adorable  enchantress,  in  the  most  becom- 
ing morning  wrapper,  enjoying  an  elegant  little  breakfast  in 
the  society  of  the  Baron  Montez  de  Montejanos  and  Lisbeth. 
Though  the  sight  of  the  Brazilian  gave  him  a  shock,  Crevel 
begged  Madame  Marneffe  to  grant  him  two  minutes'  speech 
with  her.     Valdrie  led  Crevel  into  the  drawing-room. 

"Valerie,  my  angel,"  said  the  amorous  mayor,  "Monsieur 


218  THE   POOR  PARENTS. 

Mameffe  cannot  have  long  to  live.  If  you  will  be  faithful  to 
me,  when  he  dies  we  will  be  married.  Think  it  over.  I  have 
rid  you  of  Hulot.  So  just  consider  whether  this  Brazilian  is 
to  compare  with  a  mayor  of  Paris,  a  man  who,  for  your  sake, 
will  make  his  way  to  the  highest  dignities,  and  who  can  already 
offer  you  eighty-odd  thousand  francs  a  year." 

"  I  will  think  it  over,"  said  she.  "  You  will  see  me  in  the 
Rue  du  Dauphin  at  two  o'clock,  and  we  can  discuss  the  matter. 
But  be  a  good  boy — and  do  not  forget  the  bond  you  promised 
to  transfer  to  me." 

She  returned  to  the  dining-room,  followed  by  Crevel,  who 
flattered  himself  that  he  had  hit  on  a  plan  for  keeping  Valerie 
to  himself;  but  there  he  found  Baron  Hulot,  who,  during  this 
short  colloquy,  had  also  arrived  with  the  same  end  in  view. 
He,  like  Crevel,  begged  for  a  brief  interview.  Madame 
Marneffe  again  rose  to  go  to  the  drawing-room,  with  a  smile 
at  the  Brazilian  that  seemed  to  say  :  "  What  fools  they  are  ! 
Cannot  they  see  you  /" 

"  Valerie,"  said  the  official,  *'  my  child,  that  cousin  of  yours 
is  an  American  cousin " 

"Oh,  that  is  enough  !  "  she  cried,  interrupting  the  baron. 
"Marneffe  never  has  been,  and  never  will  be,  never  can  be 
my  husband  !  The  first,  the  only  man  I  ever  loved,  has  come 
back  quite  unexpectedly.  It  is  no  fault  of  mine  !  But  look 
at  Henri  and  then  at  yourself.  Then  ask  yourself  whether  a 
woman,  and  a  woman  in  love,  can  hesitate  for  a  moment. 
My  dear  fellow,  I  am  not  a  kept  mistress.  From  this  day 
forth  I  refuse  to  play  the  part  of  Susannah  between  the  two 
Elders.  If  you  really  care  for  me,  you  and  Crevel,  you  will 
be  our  friends ;  but  all  else  is  at  an  end,  for  I  am  six-and- 
twenty,  and  henceforth  I  mean  to  be  a  saint,  an  admirable 
and  worthy  wife — as  yours  is." 

"Is  that  what  you  have  to  say?"  asked  Hulot.  "Is  this 
the  way  you  receive  me  when  I  come  like  a  pope  with  my 
hands   full   of  indulgences.     Well,  your  husband  will  never 


MADAME    MARNEFFE    AGAIN    ROSE    TO    GO    TO    THE 
DRAWING-ROOM 


COUSIN  BETTY.  219 

be  a  first-class  clerk,    nor   be    promoted    in    the   Legion   of 
Honor." 

"  That  remains  to  be  seen,"  said  Madame  Marneffe,  with  a 
meaning  look  at  Hulot. 

"Well,  well,  no  temper,"  said  Hulot  in  despair.  "I  will 
call  this  evening,  and  we  will  come  to  an  understanding." 

"In  Lisbeth's  rooms  then." 

"Very  good — at  Lisbeth's,"  said  the  old  dotard. 

Hulot  and  Crevel  went  downstairs  together  without  speak- 
ing a  word  till  they  were  in  the  street ;  but  outside  on  the 
sidewalk  they  looked  at  each  other  with  a  dreary  laugh. 

"We  are  a  couple  of  old  fools,"  said  Crevel. 

"I  have  got  rid  of  them,"  said  Madame  Marneffe  to  Lis- 
beth,  as  she  sat  down  once  more.  "I  never  loved  and  I  never 
shall  love  any  man  but  my  Jaguar,"  she  added,  smiling  at 
Henri  Montez.  "  Lisbeth,  my  dear,  you  don't  know. 
Henri  has  forgiven  me  the  infamy  to  which  I  was  reduced  by 
poverty." 

"It  was  my  own  fault,"  said  the  Brazilian.  "I  ought  to 
have  sent  you  a  hundred  thousand  francs." 

"  Poor  boy  !  "  said  Valerie ;  "  I  might  have  worked  for  my 
living,  but  my  fingers  were  not  made  for  that — ask  Lisbeth." 

The  Brazilian  went  away  the  happiest  man  in  Paris. 

At  noon  Valerie  and  Lisbeth  were  chatting  in  the  splendid 
bedroom  where  this  dangerous  woman  was  giving  to  her  dress 
those  finishing  touches  which  a  lady  alone  can  give.  The 
doors  were  bolted,  the  curtains  drawn  over  them,  and  Valerie 
related  in  every  detail  all  the  events  of  the  evening,  the  night, 
the  morning. 

"What  do  you  think  of  it  all,  my  darling?  "  she  said  to 
Lisbeth  in  conclusion.  "Which  shall  I  be  when  the  time 
comes — Madame  Crevel  or  Madame  Montdz  ?  " 

"  Crevel  will  not  last  more  than  ten  years,  such  a  profligate 
as  he  is,"  replied  Lisbeth.  "Montdz  is  young.  Crevel  will 
leave  you  about  thirty  thousand  francs  a  year.     Let  Montdz 


220  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

wait;  he  will  be  happy  enough  as  Benjamin.  And  so,  by  the 
time  you  are  three-and-thirty,  if  you  take  care  of  your  looks, 
you  may  marry  your  Brazilian  and  make  a  fine  show  with  sixty 
thousand  francs  a  year  of  your  own — especially  under  the 
wing  of  a  mar^chale." 

"  Yes,  but  Montfez  is  a  Brazilian ;  he  will  never  make  his 
mark,"  observed  Valerie. 

"We  live  in  the  day  of  railroads,"  said  Lisbeth,  **when 
foreigners  rise  to  high  positions  in  France." 

"We  shall  see,"  replied  Valerie,  "when  Marneffe  is  dead. 
He  has  not  much  longer  to  suffer." 

"  These  attacks  that  return  so  often  are  a  sort  of  physical 
remorse,"  said  Lisbeth.     "Well,  I  am  off  to  see  Hortense." 

"  Yes — go,  my  angel !  "  replied  Valerie.  "  And  bring  me 
my  artist.  Three  years,  and  I  have  not  gained  an  inch  of 
ground  !  It  is  a  disgrace  to  both  of  us !  Wenceslas  and 
Henri — those  are  my  two  passions — one  for  love,  the  other 
for  fancy." 

"You  are  lovely  this  morning,"  said  Lisbeth,  putting  her 
arm  round  Valerie's  waist  and  kissing  her  forehead.  "  I 
enjoy  all  your  pleasures,  your  good  fortune,  your  dresses — I 
never  really  lived  till  the  day  when  we  became  sisters." 

"Wait  a  moment,  my  tiger-cat !  "  cried  Valerie,  laughing; 
"  your  shawl  is  crooked.  You  cannot  put  a  shawl  on  yet  in 
spite  of  my  lessons  for  three  years — and  you  want  to  be 
Madame  la  Marechale  Hulot  !  " 

Shod  in  prunella  shoes,  over  gray  silk  stockings,  in  a  gown 
of  handsome  corded  silk,  her  hair  in  smooth  bands  under  a 
very  pretty  black  velvet  bonnet,  lined  with  yellow  satin, 
Lisbeth  made  her  way  to  the  Rue  Saint-Dominique  by  the 
Boulevard  des  Invalides,  wondering  whether  sheer  dejection 
would  at  last  break  down  Hortense's  brave  spirit,  and  whether 
Sarmatian  instability,  taken  at  a  moment  when,  with  such  a 
character,  everything  is  possible,  would  be  too  much  for 
Steinbock's  constancy. 


COUSIN  BETTY.  221 

Hortense  and  Wenceslas  had  the  first  floor  of  a  house 
situated  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  Saint-Dominique  and  the 
Esplanade  des  Invalides.  These  rooms,  once  in  harmony 
with  the  honeymoon,  now  had  that  half-new,  half-faded  look 
that  may  be  called  the  autumnal  aspect  of  furniture.  Newly 
married  people  are  as  lavish  and  wasteful,  without  knowing  it 
or  intending  it,  of  everything  about  them  as  they  are  of  their 
affection.  Thinking  only  of  themselves,  they  reck  little  of 
the  future,  which,  at  a  later  time,  weighs  on  the  mother  of  a 
family. 

Lisbeth  found  Hortense  just  as  she  had  finished  dressing  a 
baby  Wenceslas,  who  had  been  carried  into  the  garden. 

"Good-morning,  Betty,"  said  Hortense,  opening  the  door 
herself  to  her  cousin.  The  cook  was  gone  out,  and  the 
house-servant,  who  was  also  the  nurse,  was  doing  some  washing. 

"  Good-morning,  dear  child,"  replied  Lisbeth,  kissing  her. 
"  Is  Wenceslas  in  the  studio?  "  she  added  in  a  whisper. 

"  No;  he  is  in  the  drawing-room  talking  to  Stidmann  and 
Chanor." 

"  Can  we  be  alone?  "  asked  Lisbeth. 

"  Come  into  my  room." 

In  this  room,  the  hangings  of  pink-flowered  chintz  with 
green  leaves  on  a  white  ground,  constantly  exposed  to  the  sun, 
were  much  faded,  as  was  the  carpet.  The  muslin  curtains  had 
not  been  washed  for  many  a  day.  The  smell  of  tobacco  hung 
about  the  room  ;  for  Wenceslas,  now  an  artist  of  repute,  and 
born  a  fine  gentleman,  left  his  cigar-ash  on  the  arms  of  the 
chairs  and  the  prettiest  pieces  of  furniture,  as  a  man  does  to 
whom  love  allows  everything — a  man  rich  enough  to  scorn 
vulgar  carefulness. 

"  Now,  then,  let  us  talk  over  your  affairs,"  said  Lisbeth, 
seeing  her  pretty  cousin  silent  in  the  armchair  into  which  she 
had  dropped.  "But  what  ails  you?  You  look  rather  pale, 
my  dear." 

"  Two  articles  have  just  come  out  in  which  my  poor  Wen- 


222  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

ceslas  is  pulled  to  pieces ;  I  have  read  them,  but  I  have  hidden 
them  from  him,  for  they  would  completely  depress  him. 
The  marble  statue  of  Marshal  Montcornet  is  pronounced 
utterly  bad.  The  bas-reliefs  are  allowed  to  pass  muster, 
simply  to  allow  of  the  most  perfidious  praise  of  his  talent  as 
a  decorative  artist,  and  to  give  the  greater  emphasis  to  the 
statement  that  serious  art  is  quite  out  of  his  reach !  Stid- 
mann,  whom  I  besought  to  tell  me  the  truth,  broke  my  heart 
by  confessing  that  his  own.  opinion  agreed  with  that  of  every 
other  artist,  of  the  critics,  and  the  public.  He  said  to  me  in 
the  garden  before  breakfast,  *  If  Wenceslas  cannot  exhibit  a 
masterpiece  next  season,  he  must  give  up  heroic  sculpture  and 
be  content  to  execute  idyllic  subjects,  small  figures,  pieces  of 
jewelry,  and  high-class  goldsmiths*  work ! '  This  verdict  is 
dreadful  to  me,  for  Wenceslas,  I  know,  will  never  accept  it ; 
he  feels  he  has  so  many  fine  ideas." 

"Ideas  will  not  pay  the  tradesmen's  bills,"  remarked 
Lisbeth.  *'  I  was  always  telling  him  so — nothing  but  money. 
Money  is  only  to  be  had  for  work  done — things  that  ordinary 
folk  like  well  enough  to  buy  them.  When  an  artist  has  to 
live  and  keep  a  family,  he  had  far  better  have  a  design  for  a 
candlestick  on  his  counter,  or  for  a  fender  or  a  table,  than  for 
groups  or  statues.  Everybody  must  have  such  things,  while 
he  may  wait  months  for  the  admirer  of  the  group — and  for 
his  money " 

"  You  are  right,  my  good  Lisbeth.  Tell  him  all  that ;  I 
have  not  the  courage.  Beside,  as  he  was  saying  to  Stidmann, 
if  he  goes  back  to  ornamental  work  and  small  sculpture,  he 
must  give  up  all  hope  of  the  Institute  and  grand  works  of  art, 
and  we  should  not  get  the  three  hundred  thousand  francs' 
worth  of  work  promised  at  Versailles  and  by  the  City  of  Paris 
and  the  Ministers.  That  is  what  we  are  robbed  of  by  those 
dreadful  articles,  written  by  rivals  who  want  to  step  into  our 
shoes." 

"  And  that  is  not  what  you  dreamed  of,  poor  little  puss  !  " 


COUSIN  BETTY.  223 

said  Lisbeth,  kissing  Hortense  on  the  brow.  "  You  expected 
to  find  a  gentleman,  a  leader  of  Art,  the  chief  of  all  living 
sculptors.  But  that  is  poetry,  you  see,  a  dream  requiring 
fifty  thousand  francs  a  year,  and  you  have  only  two  thousand 
four  hundred — so  long  as  I  live.  After  my  death  three 
thousand." 

A  few  tears  rose  to  Hortense's  eyes,  and  Lisbeth  drank 
them  with  her  eyes  as  a  cat  laps  milk. 

This  is  the  history  of  their  honeymoon — the  tale  will  per- 
haps not  be  lost  on  some  artists. 

Intellectual  work,  ^abor  in  the  upper  regions  of  mental 
effort,  is  one  of  the  grandest  achievements  of  man.  That 
wliich  deserves  real  glory  in  Art — for  by  Art  we  must  under- 
stand every  creation  of  the  mind — is  courage  above  all  things 
— a  sort  of  courage  of  which  the  vulgar  have  no  conception, 
and  which  has  never  perhaps  been  described  till  now. 

Driven  by  the  dreadful  stress  of  poverty,  goaded  by  Lisbeth, 
and  kept  by  her  in  blinkers,  as  a  horse  is,  to  hinder  it  from 
seeing  to  the  right  and  left  of  its  road,  lashed  on  by  that  hard 
woman,  the  personification  of  Necessity,  a  sort  of  deputy  Fate, 
Wenceslas,  a  born  poet  and  dreamer,  had  gone  on  from  con- 
ception to  execution,  and  overleaped,  without  sounding  it,  the 
gulf  that  divides  these  two  hemispheres  of  Art.  To  muse,  to 
dream,  to  conceive  of  fine  works,  is  a  delightful  occupation. 
It  is  like  smoking  a  magic  cigar  or  leading  the  life  of  a  court- 
esan who  follows  her  own  fancy.  The  work  then  floats  in  all 
the  grace  of  infancy,  in  the  mad  joy  of  conception,  with  the 
fragrant  beauty  of  a  flower,  and  the  aromatic  juices  of  a  fruit 
enjoyed  in  anticipation. 

The  man  who  can  but  sketch  his  purpose  beforehand  in 
words  is  regarded  as  a  wonder,  and  every  artist  and  writer 
possesses  that  faculty.  But  gestation,  fruition,  the  laborious 
rearing  of  the  offspring,  putting  it  to  bed  every  night  full  fed 
with  milk,  embracing  it  anew  every  morning  with  the  inex- 
haustible affection  of  a  mother's  heart,  licking  it  clean,  dress- 


224  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

ing  it  a  hundred  times  in  the  richest  garb  only  to  be  instantly 
destroyed ;  then  never  to  be  cast  down  at  the  convulsions  of 
this  headlong  life  till  the  living  masterpiece  is  perfected  which 
in  sculpture  speaks  to  every  eye,  in  literature  to  every  intellect, 
in  painting  to  every  memory,  in  music  to  every  heart !  This 
is  the  task  of  execution.  The  hand  must  be  ready  at  every 
instant  to  come  forward  and  obey  the  brain.  But  the  brain 
has  no  more  a  creative  power  at  command  than  love  has  a 
perennial  spring. 

The  habit  of  creativeness,  the  indefatigable  love  of  mother- 
hood which  makes  a  mother — that  miracle  of  nature  which 
Raphael  so  perfectly  understood — the  maternity  of  the  brain, 
in  short,  which  is  so  difficult  to  develop,  is  lost  with  prodigious 
ease.  Inspiration  is  the  opportunity  of  genius.  She  does  not 
indeed  dance  on  the  razor's  edge,  she  is  in  the  air  and  flies 
away  with  the  suspicious  swiftness  of  a  crow;  she  wears  no 
scarf  by  which  the  poet  can  clutch  her ;  her  hair  is  a  flame ; 
she  vanishes  like  the  lovely  rose  and  white  flamingo,  the 
sportsman's  despair.  And  work,  again,  is  a  wearisome  struggle, 
alike  dreaded  and  delighted  in  by  these  lofty  and  powerful 
natures  who  are  often  broken  by  it.  A  great  poet  of  our  day 
has  said  in  speaking  of  this  overwhelming  labor,  **  I  sit  down 
to  it  in  despair,  but  I  leave  it  with  regret."  Be  it  known  to 
all  who  are  ignorant !  If  the  artist  does  not  throw  himself 
into  his  work  as  Curtius  sprang  into  the  gulf,  as  a  soldier  leads 
a  forlorn  hope  without  a  moment's  thought,  and  if  when  he 
is  in  the  crater  he  does  not  dig  on  as  a  miner  does  when  the 
earth  has  fallen  in  on  him;  if  he  contemplates  the  difficulties 
before  him  instead  of  conquering  them  one  by  one,  like  the 
lovers  in  fairy  tales,  who  to  win  their  princesses  overcome  ever- 
new  enchantments,  the  work  remains  incomplete ;  it  perishes 
in  the  studio  where  creativeness  becomes  impossible,  and  the 
artist  looks  on  at  the  suicide  of  his  own  talent. 

Rossini,  a  brother  genius  to  Raphael,  is  a  striking  instance 
in  his  poverty-stricken  youth,  compared  with  his  later  years 


COUSIN  BETTY.  225 

of  opulence.  This  is  the  reason  why  the  same  prize,  the 
same  triumph,  the  same  bays  are  awarded  to  great  poets  and 
to  great  generals. 

Wenceslas,  by  nature  a  dreamer,  had  expended  so  much 
energy  in  production,  in  study,  and  in  work  under  Lisbeth's 
despotic  rule,  that  love  and  happiness  resulted  in  reaction. 
His  real  character  reappeared,  the  weakness,  recklessness,  and 
indolence  of  the  Sarmatian  returned  to  nestle  in  the  com- 
fortable corners  of  his  soul,  whence  the  schoolmaster's  rod 
had  routed  them. 

For  the  first  few  months  the  artist  adored  his  wife.  Hor- 
tense  and  Wenceslas  abandoned  themselves  to  the  happy 
childishness  of  a  legitimate  and  unbounded  passion.  Hortense 
was  the  first  to  release  her  husband  from  his  labors,  proud  to 
triumph  over  her  rival,  his  Art.  And,  indeed,  a  woman's 
caresses  scare  away  the  Muse,  and  break  down  the  sturdy, 
brutal  resolution  of  the  worker. 

Six  or  seven  months  slipped  by,  and  the  artist's  fingers  had 
forgotten  the  use  of  the  modeling  tool.  When  the  need  for 
work  began  to  be  felt,  when  the  Prince  de  Wissembourg,  pres- 
ident of  the  committee  of  subscribers,  asked  to  see  the  statue, 
Wenceslas  spoke  the  inevitable  byword  of  the  idler,  '  *  I  am 
just  going  to  work  on  it,"  and  he  lulled  his  dear  Hortense 
with  fallacious  promises  and  the  magnificent  schemes  of  the 
artist  as  he  smokes.  Hortense  loved  her  poet  more  than  ever; 
she  dreamed  of  a  sublime  statue  of  Marshal  Montcornet.  Mont- 
cornet  would  be  the  embodied  ideal  of  bravery,  the  type  of 
the  cavalry  officer,  the  embodied  courage  of  Murat.  Yes, 
yes  ;  at  the  mere  sight  of  that  statue  all  the  Emperor's  victories 
were  to  seem  a  foregone  conclusion.  And  then,  such  work- 
manship !  The  pencil  was  accommodating  and  answered  to 
the  word. 

By  way  of  a  statue  the  actual  result  was  a  delightful  little 
Wenceelas. 

When  the  progress  of  affairs  required  that  he  should  go  to 
15 


226  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

the  studio  at  le  Gros-Caillou  to  mould  the  clay  and  set  up  the 
life-size  model,  Steinbock  found  one  day  that  the  prince's 
clock  required  his  presence  in  the  workshop  of  Florent  and 
Chanor,  where  the  figures  were  being  finished  ;  or,  again,  the 
light  was  gray  and  dull ;  to-day  he  had  business  to  do,  to- 
morrow they  had  a  family  dinner,  to  say  nothing  of  indisposi- 
tions of  mind  and  body,  and  the  days  when  he  stayed  at  home 
to  toy  with  his  adored  wife. 

Marshal  the  Prince  de  Wissembourg  was  obliged  to  be  angry 
to  get  the  clay  model  finished ;  he  declared  that  he  must  put 
the  work  into  other  hands.  It  was  only  by  dint  of  endless 
complaints  and  much  strong  language  that  the  committee  of 
subscribers  succeeded  in  seeing  the  plaster  cast.  Day  after 
day  Steinbock  came  home,  evidently  tired,  complaining  of 
this  **hodcarrier's  work"  and  his  own  physical  weakness. 
During  that  first  year  the  household  felt  no  pinch ;  the  Countess 
Steinbock,  desperately  in  love  with  her  husband,  cursed  the 
War  Minister.  She  went  to  see  him ;  she  told  him  that  great 
works  of  art  were  not  to  be  manufactured  like  cannon ;  and 
that  the  State — like  Louis  XIV.,  Francis  I.,  and  Leo  X. — 
ought  to  be  at  the  beck  and  call  of  genius.  Poor  Hortense, 
believing  she  held  a  Phidias  in  her  embrace,  had  the  sort  of 
motherly  cowardice  for  her  Wenceslas  that  is  in  every  wife 
who  carries  her  love  to  the  pitch  of  idolatry.    . 

"Do  not  be  hurried,"  said  she  to  her  husband,  "our whole 
future  life  is  bound  up  with  that  statue.  Take  your  time  and 
produce  a  masterpiece." 

She  would  go  to  the  studio,  and  then  the  enraptured  Stein- 
bock wasted  five  hours  out  of  seven  in  describing  the  statue 
instead  of  working  at  it.  He  thus  spent  eighteen  months  in 
finishing  the  design,  which  to  him  was  all-important. 

When  the  plaster  was  cast  and  the  model  complete,  poor 
Hortense,  who  had  looked  on  at  her  husband's  toil,  seeing 
his  health  really  suffer  from  the  exertions  which  exhaust  a 
sculptor's  frame  and  arms  and  hands — Hortense  thought  the 


COUSIN  BETTY.  227 

result  admirable.  Her  father,  who  knew  nothing  of  sculpture, 
and  her  mother,  no  less  ignorant,  lauded  it  as  a  triumph ;  the 
War  Minister  came  with  them  to  see  it,  and,  overruled  by 
tliem,  expressed  approval  of  the  figure,  standing  as  it  did  alone, 
in  a  favorable  light,  thrown  up  against  a  green  baize  back- 
ground. 

Alas!  at  the  exhibition  of  1841,  the  disapprobation  of 
the  public  soon  took  the  form  of  abuse  and  mockery  in 
the  mouths  of  those  who  were  indignant  with  the  idol  too 
hastily  set  up  for  worship.  Stidmann  tried  to  advise  his  friend, 
but  was  accused  of  jealousy.  Every  article  in  a  newspaper 
was  to  Hortense  an  outcry  of  envy.  Stidmann,  the  best  of 
good  fellows,  got  articles  written,  in  which  adverse  criticism 
was  contravened,  and  it  was  pointed  out  that  sculptors  altered 
their  works  in  translating  the  plaster  into  marble,  and  that 
the  marble  would  be  the  test. 

"In  reproducing  the  plaster  sketch  in  marble,"  wrote 
Claud  Vignon,  "a  masterpiece  may  be  ruined,  or  a  bad 
design  made  beautiful.  The  plaster  is  the  manuscript,  the 
marble  is  the  book." 

So  in  two  years  and  a  half  Wenceslas  had  produced  a  statue 
and  a  son.  The  child  was  a  picture  of  beauty;  the  statue 
was  execrable. 

The  clock  for  the  prince  and  the  price  of  the  statue  paid 
off  the  young  couple's  debts.  Steinbock  had  acquired  fash- 
ionable habits ;  he  went  to  the  play,  to  the  opera  ;  he  talked 
admirably  about  art ;  and  in  the  eyes  of  the  world  he  main- 
tained his  reputation  as  a  great  artist  by  his  powers  of  conver- 
sation and  criticism.  There  are  many  clever  men  in  Paris 
who  spend  their  lives  in  talking  themselves  out,  and  are  con- 
tent with  a  sort  of  drawing-room  celebrity.  Steinbock,  emu- 
lating these  emasculated  but  charming  men,  grew  every  day 
more  averse  to  hard  work.  As  soon  as  he  began  a  thing,  he 
was  conscious  of  all  its  difficulties,  and  the  discouragement 
that  came  over  him  enervated  his  will.    Inspiration,  the  frenzy 


228  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

of  intellectual  procreation,  flew  swiftly  away  at  the  sight  of 
this  effete  lover. 

Sculpture — like  dramatic  art — is  at  once  the  most  difficult 
and  the  easiest  of  all  arts.  You  have  but  to  copy  a  model, 
and  the  task  is  done ;  but  to  give  it  a  soul,  to  make  it  typical 
by  creating  a  man  or  a  woman — this  is  the  sin  of  Prometheus. 
Such  triumphs  in  the  annals  of  sculpture  may  be  counted,  as 
we  may  count  the  few  poets  among  men.  Michael  Angelo, 
Michel  Columb,  Jean  Goujon,  Phidias,  Praxiteles,  Polycletes, 
Puget,  Canova,  Albert  Diirer,  are  the  brothers  of  Milton, 
Virgil,  Dante,  Shakespeare,  Tasso,  Homer,  and  Moliere. 
And  such  an  achievement  is  so  stupendous  that  a  single  statue 
is  enough  to  make  a  man  immortal,  as  Figaro,  Lovelace,  and 
Manon  Lescaut  have  immortalized  Beaumarchais,  Richardson, 
and  the  Abbe  Prevost. 

Superficial  thinkers — and  there  are  many  in  the  artist  world 
— have  asserted  that  sculpture  lives  only  by  the  nude,  that  it 
died  with  the  Greeks,  and  that  modern  vesture  makes  it  im- 
possible. But,  in  the  first  place,  the  ancients  have  left  sub- 
lime statues  entirely  clothed — the  Polyhymnia,  the  Julia,  and 
others,  and  we  have  not  found  one-tenth  of  all  their  works ; 
and  then,  let  any  lover  of  art  go  to  Florence  and  see  Michael 
Angelo's  Penseroso,  or  to  the  Cathedral  of  Mainz  and  behold 
the  Virgin  by  Albert  Diirer,  who  has  created  a  living  woman 
out  of  ebony,  under  her  threefold  drapery,  with  the  most 
flowing,  the  softest  hair  that  ever  a  waiting-maid  combed 
through ;  let  all  the  ignorant  flock  thither,  and  they  will 
acknowledge  that  genius  can  give  mind  to  drapery,  to  armor, 
to  a  robe,  and  fill  it  with  a  body,  just  as  a  man  leaves  the 
stamp  of  his  individuality  and  habits  of  life  on  the  clothes  he 
wears. 

Sculpture  is  the  perpetual  realization  of  the  fact  which 
once,  and  never  again,  was,  in  painting,  called  Raphael ! 

The  solution  of  this  hard  problem  is  to  be  found  only  in 
constant  persevering  toil;  for,  merely  to  overcome  the  ma- 


COUSIN  BETTY.  229 

terial  difficulties  to  such  an  extent,  the  hand  must  be  so  prac- 
ticed, so  dexterous  and  obedient,  that  the  sculptor  may  be 
free  to  struggle  soul  to  soul  with  the  elusive  moral  element 
that  he  has  to  transfigure  as  he  embodies  it.  If  Paganini, 
who  uttered  his  soul  through  the  strings  of  his  violin,  spent 
three  days  without  practicing,  he  lost  what  he  called  the 
"stops"  of  his  instrument,  meaning  the  sympathy  between 
the  wooden  frame,  the  strings,  the  bow,  and  himself;  if  he 
had  lost  this  alliance,  he  would  have  been  no  more  than  an 
ordinary  player. 

Perpetual  work  is  the  law  of  art,  as  it  is  the  law  of  life,  for 
art  is  idealized  creation.  Hence  great  artists  and  perfect  poets 
wait  neither  for  commissions  nor  for  purchasers.  They  are 
constantly  creating — to-day,  to-morrow,  always.  The  result 
is  the  habit  of  work,  the  unfailing  apprehension  of  the  diffi- 
culties which  keep  them  in  close  intercourse  with  the  Muse 
and  her  productive  forces.  Canova  lived  in  his  studio,  as 
Voltaire  lived  in  his  study  ;  and  so  must  Homer  and  Phidias 
have  lived. 

While  Lisbeth  kept  Wenceslas  Steinbock  in  thralldom  in  his 
garret,  he  was  on  the  thorny  road  trodden  by  all  these  great 
men,  which  leads  to  the  Alpine  heights  of  glory.  Then  hap- 
piness, in  the  person  of  Hortense,  had  reduced  the  poet  to 
idleness — the  normal  condition  of  all  artists,  since  to  them  idle- 
ness is  fully  occupied.  Their  joy  is  such  as  that  of  the  pasha 
of  a  seraglio ;  they  revel  with  ideas,  they  get  drunk  at  the 
fonts  of  intellect.  Great  artists,  such  as  Steinbock,  wrapped 
in  reverie,  are  rightly  spoken  of  as  dreamers.  They,  like 
opium-eaters,  all  sink  into  poverty,  whereas  if  they  had  been 
kept  up  to  the  mark  by  the  stem  demands  of  life,  they  might 
have  been  great  men. 

At  the  same  time,  these  half-artists  are  delightful ;  men  like 
them  and  cram  them  with  praise ;  they  even  seem  superior  to 
the  true  artists,  who  are  taxed  with  conceit,  unsociableness, 
contempt  of  the  laws  of  society.     This  is  why :  Great  men  are 


230  THE   POOR  PARENTS. 

the  slaves  of  their  work.  Their  indifference  to  outer  things, 
their  devotion  to  their  work,  make  simpletons  regard  them  as 
egotists,  and  they  are  expected  to  wear  the  same  garb  as  the 
dandy  who  fulfills  the  trivial  evolutions  called  social  duties. 
These  men  want  the  lions  of  the  Atlas  to  be  combed  and 
scented  like  a  lady's  poodle. 

These  artists,  who  are  too  rarely  matched  to  meet  their  fel- 
lows, fall  into  habits  of  solitary  exclusiveness ;  they  are  inex- 
plicable to  the  majority,  which,  as  we  know,  consists  mostly 
of  fools — of  the  envious,  the  malignant,  the  ignorant,  and  the 
superficial. 

Now  you  may  imagine  what  part  a  wife  should  play  in  the 
life  of  these  glorious  and  exceptional  beings.  She  ought  to 
be  what,  for  five  years,  Lisbeth  had  been,  but  with  the  added 
offering  of  love,  humble  and  patient  love,  always  ready  and 
always  smiling. 

Hortense,  enlightened  by  her  anxieties  as  a  mother,  and 
driven  by  dire  necessity,  had  discovered  too  late  the  mistakes 
she  had  been  involuntarily  led  into  by  her  excessive  love. 
Still,  the  worthy  daughter  of  her  mother,  her  heart  ached  at 
the  thought  of  worrying  Wenceslas ;  she  loved  her  dear  poet 
too  much  to  become  his  torturer ;  and  she  could  foresee  the 
hour  when  beggary  awaited  her,  her  child,  and  her  husband. 

"Come,  come,  my  child,"  said  Lisbeth,  seeing  the  tears  in 
lier  cousin's  lovely  eyes,  "you  must  not  despair.  A  glassful 
of  tears  will  not  buy  a  plate  of  soup.  How  much  do  you 
want?" 

"Well,  five  or  six  thousand  francs." 

"  I  have  but  three  thousand  at  most,"  said  Lisbeth.  "And 
what  is  Wenceslas  doing  now  ? ' ' 

"  He  has  had  an  offer  to  work  in  partnership  with  Stidmann 
at  a  table  service  for  the  Due  d'H6rouville  for  six  thousand 
francs.  Then  Monsieur  Chanor  will  advance  four  thousand  to 
repay  Monsieur  de  Lora  and  Bridau — a  debt  of  honor." 

"  What,  you  have  had  the  money  for  the  statue  and  the  bas- 


COUSIN  BETTY.  231 

reliefs  for  Marshal  Montcornet's  monument,  and  you  have  not 
paid  them  yet?  " 

"For  the  last  three  years,"  said  Hortense,  "we  have  spent 
twelve  thousand  francs  a  year,  and  I  have  but  a  hundred  louis 
a  year  of  my  own.  The  marshal's  monument,  when  all  the 
expenses  were  paid,  brought  us  no  more  than  sixteen  thousand 
francs.  Really  and  truly,  if  Wenceslas  gets  no  work,  I  do  not 
know  what  is  to  become  of  us.  Oh,  if  only  I  could  learn,  to 
make  statues,  I  would  handle  the  clay!  "  she  cried,  holding 
up  her  fine  arms. 

The  woman,  it  was  plain,  fulfilled  the  promise  of  the  girl ; 
there  was  a  flash  in  her  eye  ;  impetuous  blood,  strong  with  iron, 
flowed  in  her  veins ;  she  felt  that  she  was  wasting  her  energy 
in  carrying  her  infant. 

"Ah,  my  poor  little  thing  !  a  sensible  girl  should  not  marry 
an  artist  till  his  fortune  is  made — not  while  it  is  still  to  make." 

At  this  moment  they  heard  voices ;  Stidmann  and  Wen- 
ceslas were  seeing  Chanor  to  the  door ;  then  Wenceslas  and 
Stidmann  came  in  again. 

Stidmann,  an  artist  in  vogue  in  the  world  of  journalists, 
famous  actresses,  and  courtesans  of  the  better  class,  was  a 
young  man  of  fashion  whom  Valerie  much  wished  to  see  in 
her  rooms ;  indeed,  he  had  already  been  introduced  to  her  by 
Claud  Vignon.  Stidmann  had  lately  broken  off"  an  intimacy 
with  Madame  Schontz,  who  had  married  some  months  since 
and  gone  to  live  in  the  country.  Valerie  and  Lisbeth,  hear- 
ing of  this  upheaval  from  Claud  Vignon,  thought  it  well  to  get 
Steinbock's  friend  to  visit  in  the  Rue  Vanneau. 

Stidmann,  out  of  good  feeling,  went  rarely  to  the  Stein- 
bocks  ;  and  as  it  happened  that  Lisbeth  was  not  present  when 
he  was  introduced  by  Claud  Vignon,  she  now  saw  him  for  the 
first  time.  As  she  watched  this  noted  artist,  she  caught  cer- 
tain glances  from  his  eyes  at  Hortense,  which  suggested  to  her 
the  possibility  of  offering  him  to  the  Countess  Steinbock  as  a 
consolation  if  Wenceslas  should  be  false  to  her.     In  point  of 


232  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

fact,  Stidmann  was  reflecting  that  if  Steinbock  were  not  his 
friend,  Hortense,  the  young  and  superbly  beautiful  countess, 
would  be  an  adorable  mistress ;  it  was  this  very  notion,  con- 
trolled by  honor,  that  kept  him  away  from  the  house.  Lis- 
beth  was  quick  to  mark  the  significant  awkwardness  that 
troubles  a  man  in  the  presence  of  a  woman  with  whom  he  will 
not  allow  himself  to  flirt. 

"  Very  good-looking — that  young  man,"  said  she  in  a  whis- 
per to  Hortense. 

**  Oh,  do  you  think  so?"  she  replied.  **I  never  noticed 
him." 

**  Stidmann,  my  good  fellow,"  said  Wenceslas,  in  an  under- 
tone to  his  friend,  "we  are  on  no  ceremony,  you  and  I — we 
have  some  business  to  settle  with  this  old  maid." 

Stidmann  bowed  to  the  ladies  and  went  away. 

"It  is  settled,"  said  Wenceslas,  when  he  came  in  from 
taking  leave  of  Stidmann.  "  But  there  are  six  months'  work 
to  be  done,  and  we  must  live  meanwhile." 

**  There  are  my  diamonds,^  cried  the  young  countess,  with 
the  impetuous  heroism  of  a  loving  woman. 

A  tear  rose  in  Wenceslas'  eye. 

"  Oh  !  I  am  going  to  work,"  said  he,  sitting  down  by  his 
wife  and  drawing  her  on  to  his  knee.  "  I  will  do  odd  jobs 
— a  wedding  chest,  bronze  groups " 

"  But,  my  children,"  said  Lisbeth ;  "  for,  as  you  know,  you 
will  be  my  heirs,  and  I  shall  leave  you  a  very  comfortable 
sum,  believe  me,  especially  if  you  help  me  to  marry  the 
marshal ;  nay,  if  we  succeed  in  that  quickly,  I  will  take  you 
all  to  board  with  me — you  and  Adeline.  We  should  live 
very  happily  together.  But  for  the  moment,  listen  to  the 
voice  of  my  long  experience.  Do  not  fly  to  the  Mont-de- 
Pi6t6  ;*  it  is  the  ruin  of  the  borrower.  I  have  always  found 
that,  when  the  interest  was  due,  those  who  had  pledged  their 
things  had  nothing  wherewith  to  pay  up,  and  then  all  is 
*  Pawnbroker's  office. 


COUSIN  BETTY.  233 

lost.  I  can  get  you  a  loan  at  five  per  cent,  on  your  note 
of  hand." 

"Oh,  we  are  saved  !  "  said  Hortense. 

"Well,  then,  child,  Wenceslas  had  better  come  with  me  to 
see  the  lender,  who  will  oblige  him  at  my  request.  It  is 
Madame  Marneffe.  If  you  flatter  her  a  little — for  she  is  as 
vain  as  zparvenue — she  will  get  you  out  of  the  scrape  in  the 
most  obliging  way.  Come  yourself  and  see  her,  my  dear 
Hortense. ' ' 

Hortense  looked  at  her  husband  with  the  expression  a  man 
condemned  to  death  must  wear  on  his  way  to  the  scaffold. 

"Claud  Vignon  took  Stidmann  there,"  said  Wenceslas. 
"  He  says  it  is  a  very  pleasant  house." 

Hortense's  head  fell.  What  she  felt  can  only  be  expressed 
in  one  word  ;  it  was  not  pain ;  it  was  illness. 

"  But,  my  dear  Hortense,  you  must  learn  something  of 
life  !  "  exclaimed  Lisbeth,  understanding  the  eloquence  of  her 
cousin's  looks.  "  Otherwise,  like  your  mother,  you  will  find 
yourself  abandoned  in  a  deserted  room,  where  you  will  weep  like 
another  Calypso  on  the  departure  of  Ulysses,  and  at  an  age  when 
there  is  no  hope  of  Telemachus,"  she  added,  repeating  a  jest 
of  Madame  Marneffe's.  "  We  have  to  regard  the  people  in 
the  world  as  tools  which  we  make  use  of  or  let  alone,  accord- 
ing as  they  can  serve  our  turn.  Make  use  of  Madame  Mar- 
neffe now,  my  dears,  and  let  her  alone  by-and-by.  Are 
you  afraid  lest  Wenceslas,  who  worships  you,  should  fall  in 
love  with  a  woman  four  or  five  years  older  than  himself,  as 
yellow  as  a  bundle  of  field  peas,  and ?" 

"I  would  far  rather  pawn  my  diamonds,"  said  Hortense. 
**  Oh,  never  go  there,  Wenceslas  !     It  is  hell !  " 

"Hortense  is  right,"  said  Steinbock,  kissing  his  wife. 

"Thank  you,  my  dearest,"  said  Hortense,  delighted. 
"  My  husband  is  an  angel,  you  see,  Lisbeth.  He  does  not 
gamble,  he  goes  nowhere  without  me ;  if  he  only  could  stick 
to  work — oh,  I  should  be  too  happy.     Why  take  us  on  show 


234  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

to  my  father's  mistress,  a  woman  who  is  ruining  him  and  is 
the  cause  of  troubles  that  are  killing  my  heroic  mother?  " 

**  My  child,  that  is  not  where  the  cause  of  your  father's 
ruin  lies.  It  was  his  singer  who  ruined  him,  and  then  your 
marriage!"  replied  her  cousin.  "Bless  me!  why,  Madame 
Marneffe  is  of  the  greatest  use  to  him.  However,  I  must  tell 
no  tales." 

"  You  have  a  good  word  for  everybody,  dear  Betty -" 

Hortense  was  called  into  the  garden  by  hearing  the  child 
cry  :  Lisbeth  was  left  alone  with  Wenceslas. 

"  You  have  an  angel  for  your  wife,  Wenceslas  !  "  said  she. 
"  Love  her  as  you  ought ;  never  give  her  cause  for  grief." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  I  love  her  so  well  that  I  do  not  tell  her  all," 
replied  Wenceslas;  "but  to  you,  Lisbeth,  I  may  confess  the 
truth.  If  I  took  my  wife's  diamonds  to  the  Mont-de-Pi6t6, 
we  should  be  no  further  forward." 

"  Then  borrow  of  Madame  Marneffe,"  said  Lisbeth. 
"  Persuade  Hortense,  Wenceslas,  to  let  you  go  there,  or  else, 
bless  me  !  go  there  without  telling  her." 

"  That  is  what  I  was  thinking  of,"  replied  Wenceslas, 
"when  I  refused  for  fear  of  grieving  Hortense." 

"  Listen  to  me  j  I  care  too  much  for  you  both  not  to  warn 
you  of  your  danger.  If  you  go  there,  hold  your  heart  tight 
in  both  hands,  for  the  woman  is  a  witch.  All  who  see  her 
adore  her ;  she  is  so  wicked,  so  inviting  !  She  fascinates  men 
like  a  masterpiece.  Borrow  her  money,  but  do  not  leave  your 
soul  in  pledge.  I  should  never  be  happy  again  if  you  were 
false  to  Hortense — here  she  is !  not  another  word  !  I  will 
settle  the  matter." 

"  Kiss  Lisbeth,  my  darling,"  said  Wenceslas  to  his  wife. 
**  She  will  help  us  out  of  our  difficulties  by  lending  us  her 
savings." 

And  he  gave  Lisbeth  a  look  which  she  understood. 

**  Then,  I  hope  you  mean  to  work,  my  dear  treasure/'  said 
Hortense. 


COUSIN  BETTY.  236 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  the  artist.     "  I  will  begin  to-morrow." 

"To-morrow  is  our  ruin  !  "  said  his  wife,  with  a  smile. 

"Now,  my  dear  child!  say  yourself  whether  some  hin- 
drance has  not  come  in  the  way  every  day ;  some  obstacle  or 
business?" 

"Yes,  very  true,  ray  love." 

"  Here  !  "  cried  Steinbock,  striking  his  brow,  "  here  I  have 
swarms  of  ideas  !  I  mean  to  astonish  all  my  enemies.  I  am 
going  to  design  a  service  in  the  German  style  of  the  sixteenth 
century;  the  romantic  style:  foliage  twined  with  insects, 
sleeping  children,  newly  invented  monsters,  chimeras — real 
chimeras,  such  as  we  dream  of!  I  see  it  all  !  It  will  be  under- 
cut, light,  and  yet  crowded.  Chanor  was  quite  amazed.  And 
I  wanted  some  encouragement,  for  the  last  article  on  Mont- 
cornet's  monument  had  been  crushing." 

At  a  moment  in  the  course  of  the  day  when  Lisbeth  and 
Wenceslas  were  left  together,  the  artist  agreed  to  go  on  the 
morrow  to  see  Madame  Marneffe — he  either  would  win  his 
wife's  consent  or  he  would  go  without  telling  her. 

Valerie,  informed  the  same  evening  of  this  success,  insisted 
that  Hulot  should  go  to  invite  Stidmann,  Claud  Vignon,  and 
Steinbock  to  dinner;  for  she  was  beginning  to  tyrannize  over 
him  as  women  of  that  type  tyrannize  over  old  men,  who  trot 
round  town,  and  go  to  make  interest  with  every  one  who  is 
necessary  to  the  interests  or  the  vanity  of  their  task-mistress. 

Next  evening  Valerie  armed  herself  for  conquest  by  making 
such  a  toilet  as  only  a  Frenchwoman  can  devise  when  she 
wishes  to  make  the  most  of  herself.  She  studied  her  appear- 
ance in  this  great  work  as  a  man  going  out  to  fight  a  duel 
practices  his  feints  and  lunges.  Not  a  speck,  not  a  wrinkle 
was  to  be  seen.  Valerie  was  at  her  whitest,  her  softest,  her 
sweetest.     And  certain  little  "patches"  attracted  the  eye. 

It  is  commonly  supposed  that  the  patch  of  the  eighteenth 
century  is  out  of  date  or  out  of  fashion  ;  that  is  a  mistake, 


236  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

In  these  days  women,  more  ingenious  perhaps  than  of  yore, 
invite  a  glance  through  the  opera-glass  by  other  audacious 
devices.  One  is  the  first  to  hit  on  a  rosette  in  her  hair  with 
a  diamond  in  the  centre,  and  she  attracts  every  eye  for  a 
whole  evening ;  another  revives  the  hair-net,  or  sticks  a  dagger 
through  the  twist  to  suggest  a  garter ;  this  one  wears  velvet 
bands  round  her  wrists,  that  one  appears  in  lace  lappets. 
These  valiant  efforts,  an  Austerlitz  of  vanity  or  of  love,  then 
set  the  fashion  for  lower  spheres  by  the  time  the  inventive 
creatress  has  originated  something  new.  This  evening,  which 
Valerie  meant  to  be  a  success  for  her,  she  had  placed  three 
patches.  She  had  washed  her  hair  with  some  lye,  which 
changed  its  hue  for  a  few  days  from  gold  color  to  a  flaxen 
shade.  Madame  Steinbock's  was  almost  red,  and  she  would 
be  in  every  point  unlike  her.  This  new  effect  gave  her  a 
piquant  and  strange  appearance,  which  puzzled  her  followers 
so  much  that  Mont^z  asked  her : 

"What  have  you  done  to  yourself  this  evening?"  Then 
she  put  on  a  rather  wide,  black  velvet  neck-ribbon,  which 
showed  oflf  the  whiteness  of  her  skin.  One  patch  took  tJ-.e 
place  of  the  assassine*  of  our  grandmothers.  And  Valerie 
pinned  the  sweetest  rosebud  into  her  bodice,  just  in  the  mid- 
dle above  the  stay-busk,  and  in  the  daintiest  little  hollow !  It 
was  enough  to  make  every  man  under  thirty  drop  his  eyelids. 

"I  am  as  appetizing  as  a  sugar-plum,"  said  she  to  herself, 
going  through  her  attitudes  before  the  glass,  exactly  as  a 
dancer  practices  her  curtseys. 

Lisbeth  had  been  to  market,  and  the  dinner  was  to  be  one 
of  those  superfine  meals  which  Mathurine  had  been  wont  to 
cook  for  her  bishop  when  he  entertained  the  prelate  of  the 
adjoining  diocese. 

Stidmann,  Claud  Vignon,  and  Count  Steinbock  arrived 
almost  together,  just  at  six.  An  ordinary,  or,  if  you  will,  a 
jiatural  woman  would  have  hastened  at  the  announcement  of 
*  Beauty-spot. 


COUSIN  BETTY.  237 

a  name  so  eagerly  longed  for ;  but  Valerie,  though  ready  since 
five  o'clock,  remained  in  her  room,  leaving  her  three  guests 
together,  certain  that  she  was  the  subject  of  their  conversation 
or  of  their  secret  thoughts.  She  herself  had  arranged  the 
drawing-room,  laying  out  the  pretty  trifles  produced  in  Paris 
and  nowhere  eke,  which  reveal  the  woman  and  announce  her 
presence :  albums  bound  in  enamel  or  embroidered  with  beads, 
saucers  full  of  pretty  rings,  marvels  of  Sevres  or  Dresden 
mounted  exquisitely  by  Florent  and  Chanor,  statues,  books, 
all  the  frivolities  which  cost  insane  sums,  and  which  passion 
orders  of  the  makers  in  its  first  delirium — or  to  patch  up  its 
last  quarrel. 

Beside,  Valerie  was  in  the  state  of  intoxication  that  comes 
of  triumph.  She  had  promised  to  marry  Crevel  if  Marneffe 
should  die;  and  the  amorous  Crevel  had  transferred  to  the 
name  of  Valerie  Fortin  bonds  bearing  ten  thousand  francs  a 
year,  the  sum-total  of  what  he  had  made  in  railway  specula- 
tions during  the  past  three  years,  the  returns  on  the  capital  of 
a  hundred  thousand  crowns  which  he  had  at  first  offered  to 
the  Baronne  Hulot.  So  Valerie  now  had  an  income  of  thirty- 
two  thousand  francs. 

Crevel  had  just  committed  himself  to  a  promise  of  far 
greater  magnitude  than  this  gift  of  his  surplus.  In  the  par- 
oxysm of  rapture  which  "his  duchess"  had  given  him  from 
two  to  four — he  gave  this  fine  title  to  Madame  de  Marneffe  to 
complete  the  illusion — for  Valerie  had  surpassed  herself  in  the 
Rue  du  Dauphin  that  afternoon,  he  had  thought  well  to 
encourage  her  in  her  promised  fidelity  by  giving  her  the  pros- 
pect of  a  certain  little  mansion,  built  in  the  Rue  Barbette  by 
an  imprudent  contractor,  who  now  wanted  to  sell  it.  Valerie 
could  already  see  herself  in  this  delightful  residence,  with  a 
fore-court  and  a  garden,  and  keeping  a  carriage  ! 

"  What  virtuous  life  can  ever  procure  so  much  in  so  short  a 
time,  or  so  easily  ?  "  said  she  to  Lisbeth  as  she  finished  dress- 
ing.    Lisbeth  was  to  dine  with  Valerie  that  evening,  to  tell 


238  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

Steinbock  those  things  about  the  lady  which  nobody  can  say 
about  herself. 

Madame  Marneffe,  radiant  with  satisfaction,  came  into  the 
drawing-room  with  modest  grace,  followed  by  Lisbeth  dressed 
in  black  and  yellow,  who  served,  in  studio  lingo,  as  a  foil. 

"Good-evening,  Claud,"  said  she,  giving  her  hand  to  the 
famous  old  critic. 

Claud  Vignon,  like  many  another,  had  become  a  political 
personage — a  word  describing  an  ambitious  man  at  the  first 
stage  of  his  career.  The  political  personage  of  1840  repre- 
sents, in  some  degree,  the  abbe  of  the  eighteenth  century. 
No  drawing-room  circle  is  complete  without  one. 

"My  dear,  this  is  my  cousin,  Count  Steinbock,"  said 
Lisbeth,  introducing  Wenceslas,  whom  Valerie  seemed  to  have 
overlooked. 

"  Oh  yes,  I  recognized  Monsieur  le  Comte,"  replied  Valerie, 
with  a  gracious  bow  to  the  artist.  "I  often  saw  you  in  the 
Rue  du  Doyenne,  and  I  had  the  pleasure  of  being  present  at 
your  wedding.  It  would  be  difficult,  my  dear,"  said  she  to 
Lisbeth,  "  to  forget  your  adopted  son  after  once  seeing  him. 
It  is  most  kind  of  you.  Monsieur  Stidmann,"  she  went  on, 
**  to  have  accepted  my  invitation  at  such  short  notice ;  but 
necessity  knows  no  law.  I  knew  you  to  be  the  friend  of  both 
these  gentlemen.  Nothing  is  more  dreary,  more  sulky,  than 
a  dinner  where  all  the  guests  are  strangers,  so  it  was  for  their 
sake  that  I  haled  you  in — but  you  will  come  another  time  for 
mine,  I  hope?     Say  that  you  will." 

And  for  a  few  minutes  she  moved  about  the  room  with 
Stidmann,  wholly  occupied  with  him. 

Crevel  and  Hulot  were  announced  separately,  and  then  a 
deputy  named  Beauvisage. 

This  individual,  a  provincial  Crevel,  one  of  the  men  created 
to  make  up  the  crowd  in  the  world,  voted  under  the  banner 
of  Giraud,  a  State  councilor,  and  Victorin  Hulot.  These 
two  politicians  were  trying  to  form  a  nucleus  of  Progressives 


COUSIN  BETTY.  239 

in  the  loose  array  of  the  Conservative  Party.  Giraud  himself 
occasionally  spent  the  evening  at  Madame  Marneffe's,  and  she 
flattered  herself  that  she  should  also  capture  Victorin  Hulot ; 
but  the  puritanical  lawyer  had  hitherto  found  excuses  for 
refusing  to  accompany  his  father  and  father-in-law.  It  seemed 
to  him  criminal  to  be  seen  in  the  house  of  the  woman  who 
cost  his  mother  so  many  tears.  Victorin  Hulot  was  to  the 
puritans  of  political  life  what  a  pious  woman  is  among  bigots. 

Beauvisage,  formerly  a  stocking  manufacturer  at  Arcis,  was 
anxious  to  "pick  up  the  Paris  style."  This  man,  one  of  the 
outer  stones  of  the  Chamber,  was  forming  himself  under  the 
auspices  of  this  delicious  and  fascinating  Madame  Marneffe. 
Introduced  there  by  Crevel,  he  had  accepted  him,  at  her  insti- 
gation, as  his  model  and  master.  He  consulted  him  on  every 
point,  took  the  address  of  his  tailor,  imitated  him,  and  tried 
to  strike  the  same  attitudes.  In  short,  Crevel  was  his  Great 
Man. 

Valerie,  surrounded  by  these  bigwigs  and  the  three  artists, 
and  supported  by  Lisbeth,  struck  Wenceslas  as  a  really  su- 
perior woman,  all  the  more  so  because  Claud  Vignon  spoke 
of  her  like  a  man  in  love. 

"She  is  Madame  de  Maintenon  in  Ninon's  petticoats!" 
said  the  veteran  critic.  "You  may  please  her  in  an  evening 
if  you  have  the  wit ;  but  as  for  making  her  love  you — that 
would  be  a  triumph  to  crown  a  man's  ambition  and  fill  up  his 
life." 

Valerie,  while  seeming  cold  and  heedless  of  her  former 
neighbor,  piqued  his  vanity,  quite  unconsciously  indeed,  for 
she  knew  nothing  of  the  Polish  character.  There  is  in  the 
Slav  a  childish  element,  as  there  is  in  all  these  primitively 
wild  nations  which  have  overflowed  into  civilization  rather 
than  that  they  have  become  civilized.  The  race  has  spread 
like  an  inundation,  and  has  covered  a  large  portion  of  the 
globe.  It  inhabits  deserts  whose  extent  is  so  vast  that  it 
expands  at  its  ease ;  there  is  no  jostling  there,  as  there  is  in 


240  THE  POOR   PARENTS. 

Europe,  and  civilization  is  impossible  without  the  constant 
friction  of  minds  and  interests.  The  Ukraine,  Russia,  the 
plains  by  the  Danube,  in  short,  the  Slav  nations,  are  a  con- 
necting link  between  Europe  and  Asia,  between  civilization 
and  barbarism.  Thus  the  Pole,  the  wealthiest  member  of  the 
Slav  family,  has  in  his  character  all  the  childishness  and  in- 
consistency of  a  beardless  race.  He  has  courage,  spirit,  and 
strength ;  but,  cursed  with  instability,  that  courage,  strength, 
and  energy  have  neither  method  nor  guidance;  for  the  Pole 
displays  a  variability  resembling  that  of  the  winds  which  blow 
across  that  vast  plain  broken  with  swamps;  and  though  he  has 
the  impetuosity  of  the  snow  squalls  that  wrench  and  sweep  away 
buildings,  like  those  aerial  avalanches  he  is  lost  in  the  first 
pool  and  melts  into  water.  Man  always  assimilates  something 
from  the  surroundings  in  which  he  lives.  Perpetually  at 
strife  with  the  Turk,  the  Pole  has  imbibed  a  taste  for  Oriental 
splendor;  he  often  sacrifices  what  is  needful  for  the  sake  of 
display.  The  men  dress  themselves  out  like  women,  yet  the 
climate  has  given  them  the  tough  constitution  of  Arabs. 

The  Pole,  sublime  in  suffering,  has  tired  his  oppressors* 
arms  by  sheer  endurance  of  beating ;  and,  in  the  nineteenth 
century,  has  reproduced  the  spectacle  presented  by  the  early 
Christians.  Infuse  only  ten  per  cent,  of  English  cautiousness 
into  the  frank  and  open  Polish  nature,  and  the  magnanimous 
white  eagle  would  at  this  day  be  supreme  wherever  the  two- 
headed  eagle  has  sneaked  in.  A  little  Machiavellism  would 
have  hindered  Poland  from  helping  to  save  Austria,  who  has 
taken  a  share  of  it ;  from  borrowing  from  Prussia,  the  usurer 
who  had  undermined  it ;  and  from  breaking  up  as  soon  as  a 
division  was  first  made. 

At  the  christening  of  Poland,  no  doubt,  the  Fairy  Carabosse, 
overlooked  by  the  fairy  who  endowed  that  attractive  people 
with  the  most  brilliant  gifts,  came  in  to  say — 

"  Keep  all  the  gifts  that  my  sisters  have  bestowed  on  you; 
but  you  shall  desire  and  never  know  what  you  wish  for  !  " 


COUSIN  BETTY.  241 

If,  in  its  heroic  duel  with  Russia,  Poland  had  won  the  day, 
the  Poles  would  now  be  fighting  among  themselves,  as  they 
formerly  fought  in  their  Diets  to  hinder  each  other  from  being 
chosen  King.  When  that  nation,  composed  entirely  of  hot- 
headed daredevils,  has  good  sense  enough  to  seek  a  Louis  XL* 
among  her  own  offspring,  to  accept  his  despotism  and  a  dynasty, 
she  will  be  saved. 

What  Poland  has  been  politically,  almost  every  Pole  is  in 
private  life,  especially  under  the  stress  of  disaster.  Thus 
Wenceslas  Steinbock,  after  worshiping  his  wife  for  three  years 
and  knowing  that  he  was  a  god  to  her,  was  so  much  nettled  at 
finding  himself  barely  noticed  by  Madame  Marneffe,  that  he 
made  it  a  point  of  honor  to  attract  her  attention.  He  com- 
pared Valerie  w^ith  his  wife  and  gave  her  the  palm.  Hortense 
was  beautiful  flesh,  as  Valerie  had  said  to  Lisbeth ;  but  Ma- 
dame Marneffe  had  spirit  in  her  very  shape,  and  the  savor  of 
vice. 

Such  devotion  as  Hortense's  is  a  feeling  which  a  husband 
takes  as  his  due ;  the  sense  of  the  immense  preciousness  of 
such  perfect  love  soon  wears  off,  as  a  debtor,  in  the  course  of 
time,  begins  to  fancy  that  the  borrowed  money  is  his  own. 
This  noble  loyalty  becomes  the  daily  bread  of  the  soul,  and 
an  infidelity  is  as  tempting  as  a  dainty.  The  woman  who  is 
scornful,  and  yet  more  the  woman  who  is  reputed  dangerous, 
excites  curiosity,  as  spices  add  flavor  to  good  food.  Indeed, 
the  disdain  so  cleverly  acted  by  Valerie  was  a  novelty  to  Wen- 
ceslas, after  three  years  of  too  easy  enjoyment.  Hortense  was 
a  wife ;  Valerie  a  mistress. 

Many  men  desire  to  have  two  editions  of  the  same  work, 
though  it  is  in  facta  proof  of  inferiority  when  a  man  cannot  make 
his  mistress  of  his  wife.  Variety  in  this  particular  is  a  sign  of 
weakness.  Constancy  will  always  be  the  real  genius  of  love, 
the  evidence  of  immense  power — the  power  that  makes  the 
poet !     A  man  ought  to  find  every  woman  in  his  wife,  as  the 

*  An  unscrupulous  monarch  who  seized  and  added  Burgundy  to  France. 
16 


242  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

squalid  poets  of  the  seventeenth  century  made  their  Manons 
figure  as  Daphne  and  Chloe. 

"Well,"  said  Lisbeth  to  the  Pole,  as  she  beheld  him  fasci- 
nated, **  what  do  you  think  of  Valerie?  " 

"  She  is  too  charming,"  replied  Wenceslas. 

"You  would  not  listen  to  me,"  said  Betty.  "Oh!  my 
little  Wenceslas,  if  you  and  I  had  never  parted,  you  would 
have  been  that  siren's  lover ;  you  might  have  married  her  when 
she  was  a  widow,  and  you  would  have  had  her  forty  thousand 
francs  a  year " 

"Really?" 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Lisbeth.  "  Now,  take  care  of  your- 
self; I  warned  you  of  the  danger;  do  not  singe  your  wings  in 
the  candle.     Come,  give  me  your  arm,  dinner  is  served." 

No  language  could  be  so  thoroughly  demoralizing  as  this ;  for 
if  you  show  a  Pole  a  precipice,  he  is  bound  to  leap  it.  As  a 
nation  they  have  the  spirit  of  cavalry ;  they  fancy  they  can 
ride  down  every  obstacle  and  come  out  victorious.  The  spur 
applied  by  Lisbeth  to  Steinbock's  vanity  was  intensified  by 
the  appearance  of  the  dining-room,  bright  with  handsome 
silver ;  the  dinner  was  served  with  every  refinement  and  ex- 
travagance of  Parisian  luxury. 

"  I  should  have  done  better  to  take  C^limene,"  thought  he 
to  himself. 

All  through  the  dinner  Hulol  was  charming ;  pleased  to  see 
his  son-in-law  at  that  table,  and  yet  more  happy  in  the  pros- 
pect of  a  reconciliation  with  Valerie,  whose  fidelity  he  pro- 
posed to  secure  by  the  promise  of  Coquet' s  head-clerkship. 
Stidmann  responded  to  the  baron's  amiability  by  shafts  of 
Parisian  banter  and  an  artist's  high  spirits.  Steinbock  would 
not  allow  himself  to  be  eclipsed  by  his  friend ;  he,  too,  was 
witty,  said  amusing  things,  made  his  mark,  and  was  pleased 
with  himself;  Madame  Marneffe  smiled  at  him  several  times 
to  show  that  she  quite  understood  him. 

The  good  meal  and  heady  wines   completed   the   work; 


COUSIN  BETTY  243 

Wenceslas  was  deep  in  what  must  be  called  the  slough  of  dis- 
sipation. Excited  by  just  a  glass  too  much,  he  stretched  him- 
self on  a  settee  after  dinner,  sunk  in  physical  and  mental 
ecstasy,  which  Madame  Marneffe  wrought  to  the  highest  pitch 
by  coming  to  sit  down  by  him — airy,  scented,  pretty  enough 
to  damn  an  angel. 

She  bent  over  Wenceslas  and  almost  touched  his  ear  as  she 
whispered  to  him — 

"  We  cannot  talk  over  business  matters  this  evening,  unless 
you  will  remain  till  the  last.  Between  us — you,  Lisbeth,  and 
me — we  can  settle  everything  to  suit  you." 

**  Ah,  madame,  you  are  an  angel "  replied  Wenceslas,  also 
in  a  murmur.  "  I  was  a  pretty  fool  not  to  listen  to  Lisbeth 
when " 

"  What  did  she  say  ?  " 

"  She  declared,  in  the  Rue  du  Doyenne,  that  you  loved 
me!" 

Madame  Marneffe  looked  at  him,  seemed  covered  with  con- 
fusion, and  hastily  left  her  seat.  A  young  and  pretty  woman 
never  rouses  the  hope  of  immediate  success  with  impunity. 
This  retreat,  the  impulse  of  a  virtuous  woman  who  is  crushing 
a  passion  in  the  depths  of  her  heart,  was  a  thousand  times 
more  effective  than  the  most  reckless  avowal.  Desire  was  so 
thoroughly  roused  in  Wenceslas  that  he  doubled  his  attentions 
to  Valerie.  A  woman  seen  by  all  is  a  woman  wished  for. 
Hence  the  terrible  power  of  actresses.  Madame  Marneffe, 
knowing  that  she  was  watched,  behaved  like  an  admired 
actress.  She  was  quite  charming,  and  her  success  was 
immense. 

"I  no  longer  wonder  at  my  father-in-law's  passion,"  said 
Steinbock  to  Lisbeth. 

**  If  you  say  such  things,  Wenceslas,  I  shall  to  my  dying 
day  repent  of  having  got  you  the  loan  of  these  ten  thousand 
francs.  Are  you,  like  all  these  men,"  and  she  indicated  the 
guests,  "madly  in  love  with  that  creature?     Remember,  you 


244  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

would  be  your  father-in-law's  rival.  And  think  of  the  misery 
you  would  bring  on  Hortense." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Wenceslas.  "  Hortense  is  an  angel ; 
I  should  be  a  wretch." 

"And  one  is  enough  in  the  family  1  "  said  Lisbeth. 

"  Artists  ought  never  to  marry  !  "  exclaimed  Steinbock. 

"Ah!  that  is  what  I  always  told  you  in  the  Rue  du 
Doyenne.  Your  groups,  your  statues,  your  great  works,  ought 
to  be  your  children." 

"What  are  you  talking  about?"  Valerie  asked,  joining 
Lisbeth.     "  Give  us  tea,  cousin." 

Steinbock,  with  Polish  vainglory,  wanted  to  appear  familiar 
with  this  drawing-room  fairy.  After  defying  Stidmann, 
Vignon,  and  Crevel  with  a  look,  he  took  Valerie's  hand  and 
forced  her  to  sit  down  by  him  on  the  settee. 

"You  are  rather  too  lordly,  Count  Steinbock,"  said  she, 
resisting  a  little.  But  she  laughed  as  she  dropped  on  to  the 
seat,  not  without  arranging  the  rosebud  pinned  into  her 
bodice. 

"  Alas  !  if  I  were  really  lordly,"  said  he,  "  I  should  not  be 
here  to  borrow  money." 

"  Poor  boy !  I  remember  how  you  worked  all  night  in  the 
Rue  du  Doyenne.  You  really  were  rather  a  spooney;  you 
married  as  a  starving  man  snatches  a  loaf.  You  knew  nothing 
of  Paris,  and  you  see  where  you  are  landed.  But  you  turned 
a  deaf  ear  to  Lisbeth's  devotion,  as  you  did  to  the  love  of  a 
woman  who  knows  her  Paris  by  heart." 

" Say  no  more  !  "  cried  Steinbock  ;  "I  am  done  for !  " 

"  You  shall  have  your  ten  thousand  francs,  my  dear  Wen- 
ceslas; but  on  one  condition,"  she  went  on,  playing  with  his 
handsome  curls. 

"What  is  that?" 

"  I  will  take  no  interest " 

"Madame!" 

"  Oh !  you  need  not  be  indignant ;  you  shall  make  it  good 


COUSIN  BETTY.  <2Aa 

by  giving  me  a  bronze  group.  You  began  the  story  of  Sam- 
son ;  finish  it.  Do  a  Delilah  cutting  off  the  Jewish  Hercules' 
hair.  And  you,  who,  if  you  will  listen  to  me,  will  be  a  great 
artist,  must  enter  into  the  subject.  What  you  have  to  show 
is  the  power  of  woman.  Samson  is  a  secondary  consideration. 
He  is  the  corpse  of  dead  strength.  It  is  Delilah — passion — 
that  ruins  everything.  How  far  more  beautiful  is  that  replica 
— that  is  what  you  call  it,  I  think "  She  skillfully  inter- 
polated, as  Claud  Vignon  and  Stidmann  came  up  to  them  on 
hearing  her  talk  of  sculpture — "  how  far  more  beautiful  than 
the  Greek  myth  is  that  replica  of  Hercules  at  Omphale's  feet. 
Did  Greece  copy  Judaea,  or  did  Judaea  borrow  the  symbolism 
from  Greece  ?" 

"  There,  madame,  you  raise  an  important  question — that  of 
the  date  of  the  various  writings  in  the  Bible.  The  great  and 
immortal  Spinoza — most  foolishly  ranked  as  an  atheist,  whereas 
he  gave  mathematical  proof  of  the  existence  of  God — asserts 
that  the  Book  of  Genesis  and  all  the  political  history  of  the 
Bible  are  of  the  time  of  Moses,  and  he  demonstrates  the  inter- 
polated passages  by  philological  evidence.  And  he  was  thrice 
stabbed  as  he  went  into  the  synagogue." 

"  I  had  no  idea  I  was  so  learned,"  said  Valerie,  annoyed  at 
this  interruption  to  her  iite-d-tHe. 

"Women  know  everything  by  instinct,"  replied  Claud 
Vjgnon. 

"Well,  then,  you  promise  me?"  she  said  to  Steinbock, 
taking  his  hand  with  the  timidity  of  a  girl  in  love. 

"You  are  indeed  a  happy  man,  my  dear  fellow,"  cried 
Stidmann,  "  if  madame  asks  a  favor  of  you  !  " 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  asked  Claud  Vignon. 

"  A  small  bronze  group,"  replied  Steinbock,  "  Delilah  cut- 
ting off  Samson's  hair." 

"  It  is  difficult,"  remarked  Claud  Vignon.     "  A  bed " 

"  On  the  contrary,  it  is  exceedingly  easy,"  replied  Valerie, 
smiling. 


246  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

"Ah,  ha!  teach  us  sculpture  !  "  said  Stidmann. 

''You  should  take  madame  for  your  model,"  replied  Vig- 
non,  with  a  keen  glance  at  Valerie. 

"Well,"  she  went  on,  "  this  is  my  notion  of  the  composi- 
tion. Samson  on  waking  finds  he  has  no  hair,  like  many  a 
dandy  with  a  false  top-knot.  The  hero  is  sitting  on  the  bed, 
so  you  need  only  show  the  foot  of  it,  covered  with  hangings 
and  drapery.  There  he  is,  like  Marius  among  the  ruins  of 
'Carthage,  his  arms  folded,  his  head  shaven — Napoleon  at 
Saint-Helena — what  you  will !  Delilah  is  on  her  knees,  a 
good  deal  like  Canova's  Magdalen.  When  a  hussy  has  ruined 
her  man,  she  adores  him.  As  I  see  it,  the  Jewess  was  afraid 
of  Samson  in  his  strength  and  terrors,  but  she  must  have 
loved  him  when  she  saw  him  a  child  again.  So  Delilah  is 
bewailing  her  sin,  she  would  like  to  give  her  lover  his  hair 
again.  She  hardly  dares  to  look  at  him;  but  she  does  look, 
with  a  smile,  for  she  reads  forgiveness  in  Samson's  weakness. 
Such  a  group  as  this,  and  one  of  the  ferocious  Judith,  would 
epitomize  woman.  Virtue  cuts  off  your  head  ;  vice  only  cuts 
off  your  hair.     Take  care  of  your  wigs,  gentlemen  !  " 

And  she  left  the  artists  quite  overpowered,  to  sing  her 
praises  in  concert  with  the  critic. 

"It  is  impossible  to  be  more  bewitching!"  cried  Stid- 
mann. 

"Oh!  she  is  the  most  intelligent  and  desirable  woman  I 
have  ever  met,"  said  Claud  Vignon.  "Such  a  combination 
of  beauty  and  cleverness  is  so  rare." 

"And  if  you  who  had  the  honor  of  being  intimate  with 
Camille  Maupin  can  pronounce  such  a  verdict,"  replied  Stid- 
mann, "  what  are  we  to  think  ?  " 

"  If  you  will  make  your  Delilah  a  portrait  of  Valerie,  my 
dear  count,"  said  Crevel,  who  had  risen  for  a  moment  from 
the  card-table,  and  who  had  heard  what  had  been  said,  "  I 
will  give  you  a  thousand  crowns  for  an  example — yes,  by  the 
powers  !     I  will  shell  out  to  the  tune  of  a  thousand  crowns  !  " 


COUSIN  BETTY.  247 

"Shell  out!  What  does  that  mean?"  asked  Beauvisage 
of  Claud  Vignon. 

"Madame  must  do  me  the  honor  to  sit  for  it  then,"  said 
Steinbock  to  Crevel.     "Ask  her " 

At  this  moment  Valerie  herself  brought  Steinbock  a  cup  of 
tea.  This  was  more  than  a  compliment,  it  was  a  favor.  There 
is  a  complete  language  in  the  manner  in  which  a  woman  does 
this  little  civility;  but  women  are  fully  aware  of  the  fact,  and 
it  is  a  curious  thing  to  study  their  movements,  their  manner, 
their  look,  tone,  and  accent  when  they  perform  this  apparently 
simple  act  of  politeness.  From  the  question,  "  Do  you  take 
tea?"  "Will  you  have  some  tea?"  "A  cup  of  tea?" 
coldly  asked,  and  followed  by  instructions  to  the  nymph  of 
the  urn  to  bring  it,  to  the  eloquent  poem  of  the  odalisque 
coming  from  the  tea-table,  cup  in  hand,  toward  the  pasha  of 
her  heart,  presenting  it  submissively,  offering  it  in  an  insinuat- 
ing voice,  with  a  look  full  of  intoxicating  promises,  a  physi- 
ologist could  deduce  the  whole  scale  of  feminine  emotion, 
from  aversion  or  indifference  to  Phaedra's  declaration  to  Hip- 
polytus.  Women  can  make  it,  at  will,  contemptuous  to  the 
verge  of  insult,  or  humble  to  the  expression  of  Oriental 
servility. 

And  Valerie  was  more  than  woman ;  she  was  the  serpent 
made  woman  ;  she  crowned  her  diabolical  work  by  going  up 
to  Steinbock,  a  cup  of  tea  in  her  hand. 

"  I  will  drink  as  many  cups  of  tea  as  you  will  give  me,"  said 
the  delighted  artist,  murmuring  in  her  ear  as  he  rose,  and 
touching  her  fingers  with  his,  "to  have  them  given  to  me 
thus!" 

"What  were  you  saying  about  sitting?"  said  she,  without 
betraying  that  this  declaration,  so  frantically  desired,  had 
gone  straight  to  her  heart. 

"  Old  Crevel  promises  me  three  thousand  francs  for  a  copy 
of  your  group." 

"  He  !  a  thousand  crowns  for  a  bronze  group? " 


248  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

"Yes — if  you  will  sit  for  Delilah,"  said  Steinbock. 

**  He  will  not  be  there  to  see,  I  hope  !  "  replied  she.  **  The 
group  would  be  worth  more  than  all  his  fortune,  for  Delilah's 
costume  is  rather  un-dressy." 

Just  as  Crevel  loved  to  strike  an  attitude,  every  woman  has 
a  victorious  gesture,  a  studied  movement,  which  she  knows 
must  win  admiration.  You  may  see  in  a  drawing-room  how 
one  spends  all  her  time  looking  down  at  her  tucker  or  pulling 
up  the  shoulder-piece  of  her  gown,  how  another  makes  play 
with  the  brightness  of  her  eyes  by  glancing  up  at  the  cornice. 
Madame  Marneffe's  triumph,  however,  was  not  face  to  face 
like  that  of  other  women.  She  turned  sharply  round  to  re- 
turn to  Lisbeth  at  the  tea-table.  This  ballet-dancer's  pir- 
ouette, whisking  her  skirts,  by  which  she  had  overthrown 
Hulot,  now  fascinated  Steinbock. 

"Your  vengeance  is  secure,"  said  Valerie  to  Lisbeth  in  a 
whisper.  '*  Hortense  will  cry  out  all  her  tears,  and  curse  the 
day  when  she  robbed  you  of  Wenceslas." 

*'  Till  I  am  Madame  la  Marechale  I  shall  not  think  myself 
successful,"  replied  the  cousin;  "but  they  are  all  beginning 
to  wish  for  it.  This  morning  I  went  to  Victorin's — I  forgot 
to  tell  you.  The  young  Hulots  have  bought  up  their  father's 
notes  of  hand  given  to  Vauvinet,  and  to-morrow  they  will  en- 
dorse a  bill  for  seventy-two  thousand  francs  at  five  per  cent., 
payable  in  three  years,  and  secured  by  a  mortgage  on  their 
house.  So  the  young  people  are  in  straits  for  three  years ; 
they  can  raise  no  more  money  on  that  property.  Victorin  is 
dreadfully  distressed  ;  he  understands  his  father.  And  Crevel 
is  capable  of  refusing  to  see  them ;  he  will  be  so  angry  at  this 
piece  of  self-sacrifice." 

"The  baron  cannot  have  a  sou  now,"  said  Valerie,  and  she 
smiled  at  Hulot. 

"I  don't  see  where  he  can  get  it.  But  he  will  draw  his 
salary  again  in  September." 

"And  he  has  his  policy  of  insurance;  he  has  renewed  it. 


COUSIN  BETTY.  249 

Come,  it  is  high  time  he  should  get  Marneffe  promoted.  I 
will  drive  it  home  this  evening." 

"  My  dear  cousin,"  said  Lisbeth  to  Wenceslas,  "  go  home, 
I  beg.  You  are  quite  ridiculous.  Your  eyes  are  fixed  on 
Valerie  in  a  way  that  is  enough  to  compromise  her,  and  her 
husband  is  insanely  jealous.  Do  not  tread  in  your  father-in- 
law's  footsteps.  Go  home ;  I  am  sure  Hortense  is  sitting  up 
for  you." 

**  Madame  Marneffe  told  me  to  stay  to  the  last  to  settle  my 
little  business  with  you  and  her,"  replied  Wenceslas. 

"No,  no,"  said  Lisbeth;  "  I  will  bring  you  the  ten  thou- 
sand francs,  for  her  husband  has  his  eye  on  you.  It  would  be 
rash  to  remain.  To-morrow  at  eleven  o'clock  bring  your 
note  of  hand ;  at  that  hour  that  mandarin  Marneffe  is  at  his 
office,  Valerie  is  free.  Have  you  really  asked  her  to  sit  for 
your  group  ?  Come  up  to  my  rooms  first.  Ah  !  I  was  sure 
of  it,"  she  added,  as  she  caught  the  look  which  Steinbock 
flashed  at  Valerie,  "  I  knew  you  were  a  profligate  in  the  bud  ! 
Well,  Valerie  is  lovely — but  try  not  to  bring  trouble  on  Hor- 
tense." 

Nothing  annoys  a  married  man  so  much  as  finding  his  wife 
perpetually  interposing  between  himself  and  his  wishes,  how- 
ever transient. 

Wenceslas  got  home  at  about  one  in  the  morning;  Hortense 
had  expected  him  ever  since  half-past  nine.  From  half-past 
nine  till  ten  she  had  listened  to  the  passing  carriages,  telling 
herself  that  never  before  had  her  husband  come  in  so  late  from 
dining  with  Florent  and  Chanor.  She  sat  sewing  by  the 
child's  cot,  for  she  had  begun  to  save  a  needlewoman's  pay 
for  the  day  by  doing  the  mending  herself.  From  ten  till  half- 
past,  a  suspicion  crossed  her  mind ;  she  sat  wondering — 

"  Is  he  really  gone  to  dinner,  as  he  told  me,  with  Chanor 
and  Florent  ?  He  put  on  his  best  cravat  and  his  handsomest 
pin  when  he  dressed.     He  took  as  long  over  his  toilet  as  a 


250  THE   POOR  PARENTS. 

woman  when  she  wants  to  make  the  best  of  herself.  I  am 
crazy  !     He  loves  me  !     And  here  he  is  !  " 

But  instead  of  stopping,  the  cab  she  heard  went  past. 

From  eleven  till  midnight  Hortense  was  a  victim  to  terrible 
alarms;  the  quarter  where  they  lived  was  now  deserted. 

"If  he  has  set  out  on  foot,  some  accident  may  have  hap- 
pened," thought  she.  "A  man  may  be  killed  by  tumbling 
over  a  curb-stone  or  failing  to  see  a  gap.  Artists  are  so  heed- 
less !  Or  if  he  should  have  been  stopped  by  robbers !  It  is 
the  first  time  he  has  ever  left  me  alone  here  for  six  hours  and 
a  half!  But  why  should  I  worry  myself?  He  cares  for  no 
one  but  me." 

Men  ought  to  be  faithful  to  the  wives  who  love  them,  were 
it  only  on  account  of  the  perpetual  miracles  wrought  by  true 
love  in  the  sublime  regions  of  the  spiritual  world.  The 
woman  who  loves  is,  in  relation  to  the  man  she  loves,  in  the 
position  of  a  somnambulist  to  whom  the  magnetizer  should 
give  the  painful  power,  when  she  ceases  to  be  the  mirror  of 
the  world,  of  being  conscious  as  a  woman  of  what  she  has  seen 
as  a  somnambulist.  Passion  raises  the  nervous  tension  of  a 
woman  to  the  ecstatic  pitch  at  which  presentiment  is  as  acute 
as  the  insight  of  a  clairvoyant.  A  wife  knows  she  is  betrayed; 
she  will  not  let  herself  say  so,  she  doubts  still — she  loves  so 
much !  She  gives  the  lie  to  the  outcry  of  her  own  Pythian 
power.  This  paroxysm  of  love  deserves  a  special  form  of 
worship. 

In  noble  souls,  admiration  of  this  divine  phenomenon  will 
always  be  a  safeguard  to  protect  them  from  infidelity.  How 
should  a  man  not  worship  a  beautiful  and  intellectual  creature 
whose  soul  can  soar  to  such  manifestations  ? 

By  one  in  the  morning  Hortense  was  in  a  state  of  such  in- 
tense anguish  that  she  flew  to  the  door  as  she  recognized  her 
husband's  ring  at  the  bell,  and  clasped  him  in  her  arms  like  a 
mother. 

"At  last — you  are  here  !  '*   cried  she,  finding  her  voice 


COUSIN  BETTY.  251 

again.  **  My  dearest,  henceforth  where  you  go  I  go,  for  I 
cannot  again  endure  the  torture  of  such  waiting.  I  pictured 
you  stumbling  over  a  curb-stone,  with  a  fractured  skull ! 
Killed  by  thieves !  No,  a  second  time  I  know  I  should  go 
mad.  Have  you  enjoyed  yourself  so  much  ?  And  without 
me!     Bad  boy!" 

"  What  can  I  say,  my  darling  ?  There  was  Bixiou,  who 
drew  fresh  caricatures  for  us ;  Leon  de  Lora,  as  witty  as  ever ; 
Claud  Vignon,  to  whom  I  owe  the  only  consolatory  article 
that   has  come   out   about   the   Montcornet   statue.      There 


"  Were  there  no  ladies?  "  Hortense  eagerly  inquired. 

"Worthy  Madame  Florent " 

"You  said  the  Rocher  de  Cancale.  Were  you  at  the 
Florents'?" 

"  Yes,  at  their  house ;  I  made  a  mistake." 

"  You  did  not  take  a  coach  to  come  home?  " 

"No." 

"And  you  have  walked  from  the  Rue  des  Toumelles ?  " 

"  Stidmann  and  Bixiou  came  back  with  me  along  the  boule- 
vards as  far  as  the  Madeleine,  talking  all  the  way." 

"It  is  dry  then  on  the  boulevards  and  the  Place  de  la 
Concorde  and  the  Rue  de  Bourgogne  ?  You  are  not  muddy 
at  all!"  said  Hortense,  looking  at  her  husband's  patent- 
leather  boots. 

It  had  been  raining,  but  between  the  Rue  Vanneau  and  the 
Rue  Saint-Dominique  Wenceslas  had  not  got  his  boots  soiled. 

"  Here — here  are  five  thousand  francs  Chanor  has  been  so 
generous  as  to  lend  me,"  said  Wenceslas,  to  cut  short  this 
lawyer-like  examination. 

He  had  made  a  division  of  the  ten  thousand-franc  notes, 
half  for  Hortense  and  half  for  himself,  for  he  had  five  thou- 
sand francs'  worth  of  debts  of  which  Hortense  knew  nothing. 
He  owed  money  to  his  foreman  and  his  workmen. 

"Now  your  anxieties  are  relieved,"  said  he,  kissing  his 


252  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

wife.  '*  I  am  going  to  work  to-morrow.  Yes,  I  am  off  to 
the  studio  at  half-past  eight  to-morrow  morning.  So  I  am 
going  to  bed  this  minute  to  get  up  early,  by  your  leave,  my 
pet." 

The  suspicion  that  had  dawned  in  Hortense's  mind  van- 
ished ;  she  was  miles  away  from  the  truth.  Madame  MarneflFe  ! 
She  never  thought  of  her.  Her  fear  for  her  Wenceslas  was 
that  he  should  fall  in  with  street  prostitutes.  The  names  of 
Bixiou  and  Leon  de  Lora,  two  artists  noted  for  their  wild  dis- 
sipations, had  alarmed  her. 

Next  morning  she  saw  Wenceslas  go  out  at  nine  o'clock, 
and  was  quite  reassured. 

"Now  he  is  at  at  work  again,"  said  she  to  herself,  as  she 
proceeded  to  dress  her  boy.  "  I  see  he  is  quite  in  the  vein  ! 
Well,  well,  if  we  cannot  have  the  glory  of  Michael  Angelo, 
we  may  have  that  of  Benvenuto  Cellini  1  " 

Lulled  by  her  own  hopes,  Hortense  believed  in  a  happy 
future ;  and  she  was  chattering  to  her  son  of  twenty  months 
in  the  language  of  onomatopoeia  that  amuses  babes  when,  at 
about  eleven  o'clock,  the  cook,  who  had  not  seen  Wenceslas 
go  out,  showed  in  Stidmann. 

"I  beg  pardon,  madame,"  said  he.  ** Is  Wenceslas  gone 
out  already  ? ' ' 

"He  is  at  the  studio." 

** I  came  to  talk  over  the  work  with  him," 

*'  I  will  send  for  him,"  said  Hortense,  offering  Stidmann  a 
chair. 

Thanking  heaven  for  this  piece  of  luck,  Hortense  was  glad 
to  detain  Stidmann  to  ask  some  questions  about  the  evening 
before.  Stidmann  bowed  in  acknowledgment  of  her  kindness. 
The  Countess  Steinbock  rang ;  the  cook  appeared,  and  was 
desired  to  go  at  once  and  fetch  her  master  from  the  studio. 

"You  had  an  amusing  dinner  last  night?"  said  Hortense. 
**  Wenceslas  did  not  come  in  till  past  one  in  the  morning." 

"Amusing?  not  exactly,"  replied  the  artist,  who  had  in- 


COUSIN  BETTY.  253 

tended  to  fascinate  Madame  MarnefFe.  "Society  is  not  very 
amusing  unless  one  is  interested  in  it.  That  little  Madame 
Marneffe  is  clever,  but  a  great  flirt." 

"And  what  did  Wenceslas  think  of  her?"  asked  poor 
Hortense,  trying  to  keep  calm.  "  He  said  nothing  about  her 
to  me." 

"  I  will  only  say  one  thing,"  said  Stidmann,  "  and  that  is, 
that  I  think  her  a  very  dangerous  woman." 

Hortense  turned  as  pale  as  a  woman  after  childbirth. 

"So — it  was  at — at  Madame  Marneffe's  that  you  dined — 
and  not — not  with  Chanor?"  said  she,  "yesterday — and 
Wenceslas — and  he " 

Stidmann,  without  knowing  what  mischief  he  had  done, 
saw  that  he  had  blundered. 

The  countess  did  not  finish  her  sentence ;  she  simply  fainted 
away.  The  artist  rang,  and  the  maid  came  in.  When  Louise 
tried  to  get  her  mistress  into  her  bedroom,  a  serious  nervous 
attack  came  on,  with  violent  hysterics.  Stidmann,  like  any 
man  who  by  an  involuntary  indiscretion  has  overthrown  the 
structure  built  on  a  husband's  lie  to  his  wife,  could  not  con- 
ceive that  his  words  should  produce  such  an  effect ;  he  sup- 
posed that  the  countess  was  in  such  delicate  health  that  the 
slightest  contradiction  was  mischievous. 

The  cook  presently  returned  to  say,  unfortunately  in  loud 
tones,  that  her  master  was  not  in  the  studio.  In  the  midst  of 
her  anguish,  Hortense  heard,  and  the  hysterical  fit  came  on 
again. 

"Go  and  fetch  madame's  mother,"  said  Louise  to  the 
cook.     "  Quick — run  !  " 

"  If  I  knew  where  to  find  Steinbock,  I  would  go  and  fetch 
him  !  "  exclaimed  Stidmann  in  despair. 

"He  is  with  that  woman!"  cried  the  unhappy  wife. 
"  He  was  not  dressed  to  go  to  his  work  !  " 

Stidmann  hurried  off  to  Madame  Marneffe's,  struck  by  the 
truth  of  this  conclusion,  due  to  the  second-sight  of  passion. 


254  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

At  that  moment  Valerie  was  posed  as  Delilah.  Stidmann, 
too  sharp  to  ask  for  Madame  Marneffe,  walked  straight  in  past 
the  lodge,  and  ran  quickly  up  to  the  third  floor,  arguing  thus : 
**  If  I  ask  for  Madame  Marneffe,  she  will  be  out.  If  I  inquire 
point-blank  for  Steinbock,  I  shall  be  laughed  at  to  my  face. 
Take  the  bull  by  the  horns !  " 

Reine  appeared  in  answer  to  his  ring. 

"  Tell  Monsieur  le  Comte  Steinbock  to  come  at  once,  his 
wife  is  dying " 

Reine,  quite  a  match  for  Stidmann,  looked  at  him  with 
blank  surprise. 

"  But,  sir — I  don't  know — did  you  suppose " 

"  I  tell  you  that  my  friend  Monsieur  Steinbock  is  here ;  his 
wife  is  very  ill.  It  is  quite  serious  enough  for  you  to  disturb 
your  mistress."     And  Stidmann  turned  on  his  heel. 

"  He  is  there,  sure  enough  !  "  said  he  to  himself. 

And  in  point  of  fact,  after  waiting  a  few  minutes  in  the 
Rue  Vanneau,  he  saw  Wenceslas  come  out,  and  beckoned  to 
him  to  come  quickly.  After  telling  him  of  the  tragedy 
enacted  in  the  Rue  Saint-Dominique,  Stidmann  scolded  Stein- 
bock for  not  having  warned  him  to  keep  the  secret  of  yester- 
day's dinner. 

"  I  am  done  for,"  said  Wenceslas,  **  but  you  are  forgiven. 
I  had  totally  forgotten  that  you  were  to  call  this  morning,  and 
I  blundered  in  not  telling  you  that  we  were  to  have  dined 
with  Florent.  What  can  I  say?  That  Valerie  has  turned 
my  head;  but,  my  dear  fellow,  for  her  glory  is  well  lost,  mis- 
fortune well  won  !     She  really  is  ! Good  heavens !     But 

I  am  in  a  dreadful  fix.  Advise  me.  What  can  I  say  ?  How 
can  I  excuse  myself?" 

"I!  advise  you!  I  don't  know,"  replied  Stidmann. 
"But  your  wife  loves  you,  I  imagine?  Well,  then,  she  will 
believe  anything.  Tell  her  that  you  were  on  your  way  to  me 
when  I  was  on  my  way  to  you ;  that,  at  any  rate,  will  set  this 
morning's  business  right.     Good-by." 


COUSIN  BETTY.  255 

Lisbeth,  called  down  by  Reine,  ran  after  Wenceslas  and 
caught  him  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  Hillerin-Bertin ;  she  was 
afraid  of  his  Polish  artlessness.  Not  wishing  to  be  involved 
in  the  matter,  she  said  a  few  words  to  Wenceslas,  who  in  his 
joy  hugged  her  then  and  there.  She  had,  no  doubt,  pushed 
out  a  plank  to  enable  the  artist  to  cross  this  awkward  place  in 
his  conjugal  affairs. 

At  the  sight  of  her  mother,  who  had  flown  to  her  aid,  Hpr- 
tense  burst  into  floods  of  tears.  This  happily  changed  the 
character  of  the  hysterical  attack. 

'*  Treachery,  dear  mamma !  "  cried  she.  **  Wenceslas,  after 
giving  me  his  word  of  honor  that  he  would  not  go  near  Ma- 
dame Marneflfe,  dined  with  her  last  night,  and  did  not  come 
in  till  a  quarter-past  one  in  the  morning.  If  you  only  knew ! 
The  day  before  we  had  had  a  discussion,  not  a  quarrel,  and  I 
had  appealed  to  him  so  touchingly.  I  told  him  I  was  jealous, 
that  I  should  die  if  he  were  unfaithful ;  that  I  was  easily  sus- 
picious, but  that  he  ought  to  have  some  consideration  for  ray 
weaknesses,  as  they  came  of  my  love  for  him  ;  that  I  had  my 
father's  blood  in  my  veins  as  well  as  yours;  that  at  the  first 
moment  of  such  a  discovery  I  should  be  mad,  and  capable  of 
mad  deeds — of  avenging  myself — of  dishonoring  us  all,  him, 
his  child,  and  myself;  that  I  might  even  kill  him  first  and 
myself  after — and  so  on. 

"And  yet  he  went  there  ;  he  is  there  !  That  woman  is  bent 
on  breaking  all  our  hearts  !  Only  yesterday  my  brother  and 
Celestine  pledged  their  all  to  pay  off"  seventy  thousand  francs 
on  notes  of  hand  signed  for  that  good-for-nothing  creature ! 
Yes,  mamma,  my  father  would  have  been  arrested  and  put 
into  prison.  Cannot  that  dreadful  woman  be  content  with 
having  my  father,  and  with  all  your  tears?  Why  take  my 
Wenceslas?     I  will  go  to  see  her  and  stab  her  !  " 

Madame  Hulot,  struck  to  the  heart  by  the  dreadful  secrets 
Hortense  was  unwittingly  letting  out,  controlled  her  grief  by 
one  of  the  heroic  efforts  which  a  magnanimous  mother  can 


256  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

make,  and  drew  her  daughter's  head  on  to  her  bosom  to  cover 
it  with  kisses. 

*'  Wait  for  Wenceslas,  my  child ;  all  will  be  explained.  The 
evil  cannot  be  so  great  as  you  picture  it !  I,  too,  have  been 
deceived,  my  dear  Hortense ;  you  think  me  handsome,  I  have 
lived  blameless ;  and  yet  I  have  been  utterly  forsaken  for 
three-and-twenty  years — for  a  Jenny  Cadine — a  Jos^pha,  a 
Madame  Marneffe  !     Did  you  know  that  ?  " 

**  You,  mamma,  you  !  You  have  endured  this  for  over 
twenty ?" 

She  broke  off,  staggered  by  her  own  thoughts. 

"Do  as  I  have  done,  my  child,"  said  her  mother.  "Be 
gentle  and  kind,  and  your  conscience  will  be  at  peace.  On 
his  death-bed  a  man  may  say,  '  My  wife  has  never  cost  me  a 
pang,'  and  God,  who  hears  that  dying  breath,  credits  it  to  us. 
If  I  had  abandoned  myself  to  fury  like  you,  what  would  have 
happened  ?  Your  father  would  have  been  embittered,  perhaps 
he  would  have  left  me  altogether,  and  he  would  not  have  been 
withheld  by  any  fear  of  paining  me.  Our  ruin,  utter  as  it  now 
is,  would  have  been  complete  ten  years  sooner,  and  we  should 
have  shown  the  world  the  spectacle  of  a  husband  and  wife 
living  quite  apart — a  scandal  of  the  most  horrible,  heart- 
breaking kind,  for  it  is  the  destruction  of  the  family.  Neither 
your  brother  nor  you  could  have  married. 

"  I  sacrificed  myself,  and  that  so  bravely,  that,  till  this  last 
connection  of  your  father's,  the  world  has  believed  me  happy. 
My  serviceable  and  indeed  courageous  falsehood  has,  till  now, 
screened  Hector;  he  is  still  respected;  but  this  old  man's 
passion  is  taking  him  too  far,  that  I  see.  His  own  folly,  I 
fear,  will  break  through  the  veil  I  have  kept  between  the 
world  and  our  home.  However,  I  have  held  that  curtain 
steady  for  twenty-three  years,  and  have  wept  behind  it — 
motherless,  I,  without  a  friend  to  trust,  with  no  help  but  in 
religion — I  have  for  twenty-three  years  secured  the  family 
honor " 


COUSIN  BETTY.  257 

Hortense  listened  with  a  fixed  gaze.  The  calm  tones  of 
resignation  and  of  such  crowning  sorrow  soothed  the  smart 
of  her  first  wound  ;  the  tears  rose  again  and  flowed  in  torrents. 
In  a  frenzy  of  filial  affection,  overcome  by  her  mother's  noble 
heroism,  she  fell  on  her  knees  before  Adeline,  took  up  the  hem 
of  her  dress  and  kissed  it,  as  pious  Catholics  kiss  the  holy  relics 
of  a  martyr. 

"  Nay,  get  up,  Hortense,"  said  the  baroness.  "  Such  hom- 
age from  my  daughter  wipes  out  many  sad  memories.  Come 
to  my  heart,  and  weep  for  no  sorrows  but  your  own.  It  is  the 
despair  of  my  dear  little  girl,  whose  joy  was  my  only  joy,  that 
broke  the  solemn  seal  which  nothing  ought  to  have  removed 
from  my  lips.  Indeed,  I  meant  to  have  taken  my  woes  to  the 
tomb,  as  a  shroud  the  more.  It  was  to  soothe  your  anguish 
that  I  spoke. 

"  God  will  forgive  me  ! 

"  Oh  !  if  ray  life  were  to  be  your  life,  what  would  I  not  do  ! 
Men,  the  world.  Fate,  Nature,  God  Himself,  I  believe,  make 
us  pay  for  love  with  the  most  cruel  grief.  I  must  pay  for  ten 
years  of  happiness  with  twenty-four  years  of  despair,  of  cease- 
less sorrow,  of  bitterness " 

"  But  you  had  ten  years,  dear  mamma,  and  I  have  had  but 
three  !  "  said  the  loving  egoist. 

"Nothing  is  lost  yet,"  said  Adeline.  "Only  wait  till 
Wenceslas  comes." 

"Mother,"  said  she,  "he  lied,  he  deceived  me.  He 
said,  *  I  will  not  go,*  and  he  went.  And  that  over  his  child's 
cradle." 

"  For  pleasure,  my  child,  men  will  commit  the  most  cow- 
ardly, the  most  infamous  actions — even  crimes ;  it  lies  in  their 
nature,  it  would  seem.  We  wives  are  set  apart  for  sacrifice. 
I  believed  my  troubles  were  ended,  and  they  are  beginning 
again,  for  I  never  thought  to  suffer  doubly  by  suffering  with 
my  child.  Courage — and  silence  !  My  Hortense,  swear  that 
you  will  never  discuss  your  griefs  with  anybody  but  me,  never 
17 


258  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

let  them  be  suspected  by  any  third  person.  Oh  !  be  as  proud 
as  your  mother  has  been." 

Hortense  started  ;  she  had  heard  her  husband's  step. 

**  So  it  would  seem,"  said  Wenceslas,  as  he  came  in,  "  that 
Stidmann  has  been  here  while  I  went  to  see  him." 

"Indeed!"  said  Hortense,  with  the  angry  irony  of  an 
offended  woman  who  uses  words  to  stab. 

*'  Certainly,"  said  Wenceslas,  affecting  surprise.  **  We  have 
just  met." 

"And  yesterday?" 

"Well,  yesterday  I  deceived  you,  my  darling  love;  and 
your  mother  shall  judge  between  us." 

This  candor  unlocked  his  wife's  heart.  All  really  lofty 
women  like  the  truth  better  than  lies.  They  cannot  bear  to 
see  their  idol  smirched ;  they  want  to  be  proud  of  the  despot- 
ism they  bow  to. 

There  is  a  strain  of  this  feeling  in  the  devotion  of  the  Rus- 
sians to  their  Czar. 

"Now,  listen,  dear  mother,"  Wenceslas  went  on.  "I  so 
truly  love  my  sweet  and  kind  Hortense  that  I  concealed  from 
her  the  extent  of  our  poverty.  What  could  I  do  ?  She  was 
still  nursing  the  boy,  and  such  troubles  would  have  done  her 
harm;  you  know  what  the  risk  is  for  a  woman.  Her  beauty, 
youth,  and  health  are  imperiled.  Did  I  do  wrong  ?  She 
believes  that  we  owe  five  thousand  francs;  but  I  owe  five 
thousand  more.  The  day  before  yesterday  we  were  in  the 
depths !  No  one  on  earth  will  lend  to  us  artists.  Our  talents 
are  not  less  untrustworthy  than  our  whims.  I  knocked  in 
vain  at  every  door.     Lisbeth,  indeed,  offered  us  her  savings." 

"  Poor  soul !  "  said  Hortense. 

"  Poor  soul !  "  said  the  baroness. 

"  But  what  are  Lisbeth's  two  thousand  francs  ?  Everything 
to  her,  nothing  to  us.  Then,  as  you  know,  Hortense,  sh« 
spoke  to  us  of  Madame  Marneffe,  who,  as  she  owes  so  much 
to  the  baron,  out  of  a  sense  of  honor,  will  take  no  interest. 


COUSIN  BETTY.  259 

Hortense  wanted  to  send  her  diamonds  to  the  Mont-de-Piete ; 
they  would  have  brought  in  a  few  thousand  francs,  but  we 
needed  ten  thousand.  Those  ten  thousand  francs  were  to  be 
had  free  of  interest  for  a  year  !  I  said  to  myself,  *  Hortense 
will  be  none  the  wiser ;  I  will  go  and  get  them.' 

"Then  the  woman  asked  me  to  dinner  through  my  father- 
in-law,  giving  me  to  understand  that  Lisbeth  had  spoken  of 
the  matter,  and  I  should  have  the  money.  Between  Hor- 
tense's  despair  on  one  hand  and-  the  dinner  on  the  other,  I 
could  not  hesitate.     That  is  all. 

**  What !  could  Hortense,  at  four-and-twenty,  lovely,  pure, 
and  virtuous,  and  my  whole  pride  and  glory,  imagine  that, 
when  I  have  never  left  her  since  we  married,  I  could  now 
prefer — what?  a  tawdry,  painted,  ruddled  creature?  "  said  he, 
using  the  vulgar  exaggeration  of  the  studio  to  convince  his 
wife  by  the  vehemence  that  women  like. 

**  Oh  !  if  only  your  father  had  ever  spoken  so !  "  cried 

the  baroness. 

Hortense  threw  her  arms  round  her  husband's  neck. 

"Yes,  that  is  what  I  should  have  done,"  said  her  mother. 
"  Wenceslas,  my  dear  fellow,  your  wife  was  near  dying  of  it," 
she  went  on,  very  seriously.  "  You  see  how  well  she  loves 
you.     And,  alas — she  is  yours  !  " 

She  sighed  deeply. 

"He  may  make  a  martyr  of  her  or  a  happy  woman," 
thought  she  to  herself,  as  every  mother  thinks  when  she  sees 
her  daughter  married.  "It  seems  to  me,"  she  said  aloud, 
"that  I  am  miserable  enough  to  deserve  to  see  my  children 
happy." 

"Be  quite  easy,  dear  mamma,"  said  Wenceslas,  only  too 
glad  to  see  this  critical  moment  end  happily.  "  In  two 
months  I  shall  have  repaid  that  dreadful  woman.  How  could 
I  help  it,"  he  went  on,  repeating  this  essentially  Polish  excuse 
with  a  Pole's  grace ;  "  there  are  times  when  a  man  would  bor- 
row of  the  devil.     And;  after  all,  the  money  belongs  to  the 


260  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

family.  When  once  she  had  invited  me,  should  I  have  got 
the  money  at  all  if  I  had  responded  to  her  civility  with  a  rude 
refusal?" 

"Oh,  mamma,  what  mischief  papa  is  bringing  on  us  !  " 
cried  Hortense. 

The  baroness  laid  her  finger  on  her  daughter's  lips,  ag- 
grieved by  this  complaint,  the  first  blame  she  had  ever  uttered 
of  a  father  so  heroically  screened  by  her  mother's  magnani- 
mous silence. 

"  Now,  good-by,  my  children,"  said  Madame  Hulot.  "  The 
storm  is  over.     But  do  not  quarrel  any  more." 

When  Wenceslas  and  his  wife  returned  to  their  room  after 
letting  out  the  baroness,  Hortense  said  to  her  husband — 

"  Tell  me  all  about  last  evening." 

And  she  watched  his  face  all  through  the  narrative,  inter- 
rupting him  by  the  questions  that  crowd  on  a  wife's  mind  in 
such  circumstances.  The  story  made  Hortense  reflect ;  she 
had  a  glimpse  of  the  infernal  dissipation  which  an  artist  must 
find  in  such  vicious  company. 

"Be  honest,  my  Wenceslas;  Stidmann  was  there,  Claud 
Vignon,  Vernisset.     Who  else  ?     In  short,  it  was  good  fun  ?  " 

"  I,  I  was  thinking  of  nothing  but  our  ten  thousand  francs, 
and  I  was  saying  to  myself,  *My  Hortense  will  be  freed  from 
anxiety.'  " 

This  catechism  bored  the  Livonian  excessively ;  he  seized  a 
gayer  moment  to  say — 

"And  you,  my  dearest,  what  would  you  have  done  if  your 
artist  had  proved  guilty?" 

"I,"  said  she,  with  an  air  of  prompt  decision,  "I  should 
have  taken  up  Stidmann — not  that  I  love  him,  of  course  !  " 

"Hortense  !  "  cried  Steinbock,  starting  to  his  feet  with  a 
sudden  and  theatrical  emphasis.  "  You  would  not  have  had 
the  chance — I  would  have  killed  you  !  " 

Hortense  threw  herself  into  his  arms,  clasping  him  closely 
enough  to  stifle  him,  and  covered  him  with  kisses,  saying — 


COUSIN  BETTY.  261 

"Ah,  you  do  love  me!  I  fear  nothing!  But  no  more 
Marneffe.      Never  go  plunging  into  such  horrible  bogs." 

"  I  swear  to  you,  my  dear  Hortense,  that  I  will  go  there  no 
more,  excepting  to  redeem  my  note  of  hand." 

She  pouted  at  this,  but  only  as  a  loving  woman  sulks  to  get 
something  for  it.  Wenceslas,  tired  out  with  such  a  morning's 
work,  went  off  to  his  studio  to  make  a  clay  sketch  of  the 
Samson  and  Delilah,  for  which  he  had  the  drawings  in  his 
pocket. 

Hortense,  penitent  for  her  little  temper,  and  fancying  that 
her  husband  was  annoyed  with  her,  went  to  the  studio  just  as 
the  sculptor  had  finished  handling  the  clay  with  the  impetu- 
osity that  spurs  an  artist  when  the  mood  is  on  him.  On  see- 
ing his  wife,  Wenceslas  hastily  threw  the  wet  wrapper  over  the 
group,  and  putting  both  arms  round  her,  he  said — 

**  We  were  not  really  angry,  were  we,  my  pretty  puss?  " 

Hortense  had  caught  sight  of  the  group,  had  seen  the  linen 
thrown  over  it,  and  had  said  nothing ;  but,  as  she  was  leaving, 
she  took  off  the  rag,  looked  at  the  model,  and  asked — 

"What  is  that?" 

"  A  group  for  which  I  had  just  had  an  idea." 

"  And  why  did  you  hide  it?  " 

"  I  did  not  mean  you  to  see  it  till  it  was  finished." 

"The  woman  is  very  pretty,"  said  Hortense. 

And  a  thousand  suspicions  cropped  up  in  her  mind,  as,  in 
India,  tall,  rank  plants  spring  up  in  a  single  night. 

By  the  end  of  three  weeks,  Madame  Marneffe  was  intensely 
irritated  by  Hortense.  Women  of  that  stamp  have  a  pride  of 
their  own  ;  they  insist  that  men  shall  kiss  the  devil's  hoof; 
they  have  no  forgiveness  for  the  virtue  that  does  not  quail  be- 
fore their  dominion,  or  that  even  holds  its  own  against  them. 
Now,  in  all  that  time  Wenceslas  had  not  paid  one  visit  in  the 
Rue  Vanneau,  not  even  that  which  politeness  required  to  a 
woman  who  had  sat  for  Delilah. 


262  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

Whenever  Lisbeth  had  called  on  the  Steinbocks,  there  had 
been  nobody  at  home.  Monsieur  and  madame  lived  in  the 
studio.  Lisbeth,  following  up  the  turtle-doves  to  their  nest  at 
le  Gros-Caillou,  found  Wenceslas  hard  at  work,  and  was  in- 
formed by  the  cook  that  madame  never  left  monsieur's  side. 
Wenceslas  was  a  slave  to  the  autocracy  of  love.  So  now 
Valerie,  on  her  own  account,  took  part  with  Lisbeth  in  her 
hatred  of  Hortense. 

Women  cling  to  a  lover  that  another  woman  is  fighting  for, 
just  as  much  as  men  do  to  women  round  whom  many  cox- 
combs are  buzzing.  Thus  any  reflections  a  propos  to  Madame 
Marneffe  are  equally  applicable  to  any  lady-killing  rake ;  he 
is,  in  fact,  a  sort  of  male  courtesan.  Valerie's  last  fancy  was 
a  madness ;  above  all,  she  was  bent  on  getting  her  group ; 
she  was  even  thinking  of  going  one  morning  to  the  studio  to 
see  Wenceslas,  when  a  serious  incident  arose  of  the  kind  which, 
to  a  woman  of  that  class,  may  very  properly  be  called  the 
spoil  of  v/ar. 

This  is  how  Valerie  announced  this  wholly  personal  event. 

She  was  breakfasting  with  Lisbeth  and  her  husband. 

"  I  say,  Marneffe,  what  would  you  say  to  being  a  second 
time  a  father  ?  " 

"  You  don't  mean  it — a  baby  ?     Oh,  let  me  kiss  you !  " 

He  rose  and  went  round  the  table ;  his  wife  held  up  her 
head  so  that  he  could  just  kiss  her  hair. 

"If  that  is  so,"  he  went  on,  "  I  am  head-clerk  and  officer 
of  the  Legion  of  Honor  at  once.  But  you  must  understand, 
my  dear,  Stanislas  is  not  to  be  the  sufferer,  poor  little  man  !  " 

"  Poor  little  man?"  Lisbeth  put  in.  "  You  have  not  set 
your  eyes  on  him  these  seven  months.  I  am  supposed  to  be 
his  mother  at  the  school ;  I  am  the  only  person  in  the  house 
who  takes  any  trouble  about  him." 

"A  brat  that  costs  us  a  hundred  crowns  a  quarter  !  "  said 
Val6rie.  "  And  he,  at  any  rate,  is  your  own  child,  Marneffe. 
You  ought  to  pay  for  his  schooling  out  of  your  salary.     The 


COUSIN  BETTY.  263 

new-comer,  far  from  reminding  us  of  butcher's  bills,  will 
rescue  us  from  want." 

"Valerie,"  replied  MarnefFe,  assuming  an  attitude  like 
Crevel,  "I  hope  that  Monsieur  le  Baron  Hulot  will  take 
proper  charge  of  his  son,  and  not  lay  the  burden  on  a  poor 
clerk.  I  intend  to  keep  him  well  up  to  the  mark.  So  take  the 
necessary  steps,  madame  !  Get  him  to  write  you  letters  in 
which  he  alludes  to  his  satisfaction,  for  he  is  rather  back- 
ward in  coming  forward  in  regard  to  my  appointment." 

And  Marneffe  went  away  to  the  ofi&ce,  where  his  chiefs 
precious  leniency  allowed  him  to  come  in  at  about  eleven 
o'clock.  And,  indeed,  he  did  little  enough,  for  his  incapac- 
ity was  notorious,  and  he  detested  work. 

No  sooner  were  they  alone  than  Lisbeth  and  Valerie  looked 
at  each  other  for  a  moment  like  Augurs,  and  both  together 
burst  into  a  loud  fit  of  laughter. 

**  I  say,  Valerie — is  it  the  fact?  "  said  Lisbeth,  "  or  merely 
a  farce  ?  ' ' 

"It  is  a  physical  fact!"  replied  Valerie.  "Now,  I  am 
sick  and  tired  of  Hortense;  and  it  occurred  to  me  in  the 
night  that  I  might  fire  this  infant,  like  a  bomb,  into  the  Stein- 
bock  household." 

Valerie  went  back  to  her  room,  followed  by  Lisbeth,  to 
whom  she  showed  the  following  letter  : 

"  Wenceslas  my  Dear: — I  still  believe  in  your  love,  though 
it  is  nearly  three  weeks  since  I  saw  you.  Is  this  scorn  ? 
Delilah  can  scarcely  believe  that.  Does  it  not  rather  result 
from  the  tyranny  of  a  woman  whom,  as  you  told  me,  you  can 
no  longer  love?  Wenceslas,  you  are  too  great  an  artist  to 
submit  to  such  a  domination.  Home  is  the  grave  of  glory. 
Consider  now,  are  you  the  Wenceslas  of  the  Rue  du  Doyenne? 
You  missed  fire  with  my  father's  statue ;  but  in  you  the  lover 
is  greater  than  the  artist,  and  you  have  had  better  luck  with 
hb  daughter.     You  are  a  father,  my  beloved  Wenceslas. 


264  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

"  If  you  do  not  come  to  me  in  the  state  I  am  in,  your 
friends  would  think  very  badly  of  you.  But  I  love  you  so 
madly,  that  I  feel  I  should  never  have  the  strength  to  curse 
you.     May  I  sign  myself  as  ever, 

"Thy  Valerie?" 

**  What  do  you  say  to  my  scheme  for  sending  this  note  to 
the  studio  at  a  time  when  our  dear  Hortense  is  there  by  her- 
self? ' '  asked  Valerie.  "  Last  evening  I  heard  from  Stidmann 
that  Wenceslas  is  to  pick  him  up  at  eleven  this  morning  to  go 
on  business  to  Chanor's ;  so  that  minx  of  a  Hortense  will  be 
there  alone." 

"  But  after  such  a  trick  as  that,"  replied  Lisbeth,  '*  I  cannot 
continue  to  be  your  friend  in  the  eyes  of  the  world ;  I  shall 
have  to  break  with  you,  to  be  supposed  never  to  visit  you,  or 
even  to  speak  to  you." 

"Evidently,"  said  Valerie;  "but " 

"Oh!  be  quite  easy,"  interrupted  Lisbeth;  "we  shall 
often  meet  when  I  am  Madame  la  Marechale.  They  are  all 
set  upon  it  now.  Only  the  baron  is  in  ignorance  of  the  plan, 
but  you  can  talk  him  over." 

"Well,"  said  Valerie,  "but  it  is  quite  likely  that  the  baron 
and  I  may  be  on  distant  terms  before  long." 

"Madame  Olivier  is  the  only  person  who  can  make  Hor- 
tense demand  to  see  the  letter,"  said  Lisbeth.  "And  you 
must  send  her  to  the  Rue  Saint-Dominique  before  she  goes  on 
to  the  studio." 

"Our  beauty  will  be  at  home,  no  doubt,"  said  Valerie, 
ringing  for  Reine  to  call  up  Madame  Olivier. 

Ten  minutes  after  the  dispatch  of  this  fateful  letter.  Baron 
Hulot  arrived.  Madame  Marneffe  threw  her  arms  round  the 
old  man's  neck  with  kittenish  impetuosity. 

"Hector,  you  are  a  father!  "  she  said  in  his  ear.  "That 
is  what  comes  of  quarreling  and  making  friends  again " 

Perceiving  a  look  of  surprise,  which  the  baron  did  not  at 


COUSIN  BETTY.  266 

once  conceal,  Valerie  assumed  a  reserve  which  brought  the 
old  man  to  despair.  She  made  him  wring  the  proofs  from  her 
one  by  one.  When  conviction,  led  on  by  vanity,  had  at  last 
entered  his  mind,  she  enlarged  on  Monsieur  Marneffe's  wrath. 

"My  dear  old  veteran,"  said  she,  "you  can  hardly  avoid 
getting  your  responsible  editor,  our  representative  partner  if 
you  like,  appointed  head-clerk  and  officer  of  the  Legion  of 
Honor,  for  you  really  have  done  for  the  poor  man  ;  he  adores 
his  boy  Stanislas,  the  little  monstrosity  who  is  so  like  him, 
that  to  me  he  is  insufferable.  Unless  you  prefer  to  settle 
twelve  hundred  francs  a  year  on  Stanislas — the  capital  to  be 
his,  and  the  life-interest  payable  to  me,  of  course " 

"But  if  I  am  to  settle  securities,  I  would  rather  it  should 
be  on  my  own  son,  and  not  on  the  monstrosity,"  said  the 
baron. 

This  rash  speech,  in  which  the  words  "my  own  son  "  came 
out  as  full  as  a  river  in  flood,  was,  by  the  end  of  an  hour, 
ratified  as  a  formal  promise  to  settle  twelve  hundred  francs  a 
year  on  the  future  boy.  And  this  promise  became,  on  Valerie's 
tongue  and  in  her  countenance,  wjjat  a  drum  is  in  the  hands 
of  a  child ;  for  three  weeks  she  played  on  it  incessantly. 

At  the  moment  when  Baron  Hulot  was  leaving  the  Rue 
Vanneau,  as  happy  as  a  man  who  after  a  year  of  married  life 
still  desires  an  heir,  Madame  Olivier  had  managed  to  make 
Hortense  drag  out  of  her  the  note  she  was  instructed  to  give 
only  into  the  "count's  own  hands."  The  young  wife  paid 
twenty  francs  for  that  letter.  The  wretch  who  commits  suicide 
must  pay  for  the  opium,  the  pistol,  the  charcoal. 

Hortense  read  and  re-read  the  note ;  she  saw  nothing  but 
this  sheet  of  white  paper  streaked  with  black  lines;  the  uni- 
verse held  for  her  nothing  but  that  paper;  everything  was 
dark  around  her.  The  glare  of  the  conflagration  that  was 
consuming  the  edifice  of  her  happiness  lighted  up  the  page, 
for  blackest  night  enfolded  her.  The  shouts  of  her  little 
Wenceslas  at  play  fell  on  her  ear,  as  if  he  had  been  in  the 


266  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

depths  of  a  valley  and  she  on  a  high  mountain.  Thus  insulted 
at  four-and-twenty,  in  all  the  splendor  of  her  beauty,  enhanced 
by  pure  and  devoted  love — it  was  not  a  stab,  it  was  death. 
The  first  shock  had  been  merely  on  the  nerves,  the  physical 
frame  had  struggled  in  the  grip  of  jealousy;  but  now  certainty 
had  seized  her  soul,  her  body  was  unconscious. 

For  about  ten  minutes  Hortense  sat  under  the  incubus  of 
this  oppression.  Tiien  a  vision  of  her  mother  appeared  before 
her,  and  revulsion  ensued ;  she  was  calm  and  cool,  and  mis- 
tress of  her  reason. 

She  rang. 

"Get  Louise  to  help  you,  child,"  said  she  to  the  cook. 
"As  quickly  as  you  can,  pack  up  everything  that  belongs  to 
me  and  everything  wanted  for  the  little  boy.  I  give  you  an 
hour.  When  all  is  ready,  fetch  a  hackney-coach  from  the 
stand,  and  call  me. 

"  Make  no  remarks  !  I  am  leaving  the  house,  and  shall 
take  Louise  with  me.  You  must  stay  here  with  monsieur ; 
take  good  care  of  him " 

She  went  into  her  room,  and  wrote  the  following  letter : 

"Monsieur  le  Comte: — The  letter  I  inclose  will  suffi- 
ciently account  for  the  determination  I  have  come  to. 

"  When  you  read  this,  I  shall  have  left  your  house  and  have 
found  refuge  with  my  mother,  taking  our  child  with  me. 

"  Do  not  imagine  that  I  shall  retrace  my  steps.  Do  not 
imagine  that  I  am  acting  with  the  rash  haste  of  youth,  with- 
out reflection,  with  the  anger  of  offended  affection ;  you  will 
be  greatly  mistaken. 

"  I  have  been  thinking  very  deeply  during  the  last  fortnight 
of  life,  of  love,  of  our  marriage,  of  our  duties  to  each  other. 
I  have  known  the  perfect  devotion  of  my  mother ;  she  has 
told  me  all  her  sorrows  !  She  has  been  heroical — every  day 
for  twenty-three  years.  But  I  have  not  the  strength  to  imitate 
her,  not  because  I  love  you  less  than  she  loves  my  father,  but 


COUSIN  BETTY.  267 

for  reasons  of  spirit  and  nature.  Our  home  would  be  a  hell ; 
I  might  lose  my  head  so  far  as  to  disgrace  you — disgrace  my- 
self and  our  child. 

**  I  refuse  to  be  a  Madame  Marneffe ;  once  launched  on 
such  a  course,  a  woman  of  my  temper  might  not,  perhaps,  be 
able  to  stop.  I  am,  unfortunately  for  myself,  a  Hulot,  not  a 
Fischer. 

"  Alone,  and  absent  from  the  scene  of  your  immoralities,  I 
am  sure  of  myself,  especially  with  my  child  to  occupy  me, 
and  by  the  side  of  a  strong  and  noble  mother,  whose  life  can- 
not fail  to  influence  the  vehement  impetuousness  of  my  feel- 
ings. There,  I  can  be  a  good  mother,  bring  our  boy  up  well, 
and  live.  Under  your  roof  the  wife  would  oust  the  mother ; 
and  constant  contention  would  sour  my  temper. 

"  I  can  accept  a  death-blow,  but  I  will  not  endure  for  twenty- 
five  years,  like  my  mother.  If,  at  the  end  of  three  years  of 
perfect,  unwavering  love,  you  can  be  unfaithful  to  me  with 
your  father-in-law's  mistress,  what  rivals  may  I  expect  to  have 
in  later  years?  Indeed,  monsieur,  you  liave  begun  your  career 
of  profligacy  much  earlier  than  my  father  did,  the  life  of  dis- 
sipation, which  is  a  disgrace  to  the  father  of  a  family,  which 
undermines  the  respect  of  his  children,  and  which  ends  in 
shame  and  despair. 

"  I  am  not  unforgiving.  Unrelenting  feelings  do  not  be- 
seem erring  creatures  living  under  the  eye  of  God.  If  you 
win  fame  and  fortune  by  sustained  work,  if  you  have  nothing 
to  do  with  courtesans  and  ignoble,  defiling  ways,  you  will  find 
me  a  wife  worthy  of  you  still. 

"  I  believe  you  to  be  too  truly  a  gentleman,  Monsieur  le 
Comte,  to  have  recourse  to  the  law.  You  will  respect  my 
wishes,  and  leave  me  under  my  mother's  roof.  Above  all, 
never  let  me  see  you  there.  I  have  left  all  the  money  lent  to 
you  by  that  odious  woman.     Farewell. 

"HORTENSE   HuLOT.**     • 


268  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

This  letter  was  written  in  anguish.  Hortense  abandoned 
herself  to  the  tears,  the  outcries  of  murdered  love.  She  laid 
down  her  pen  and  took  it  up  again,  to  express  as  simply  as 
possible  all  that  passion  commonly  proclaims  in  this  sort  of 
testamentary  letter.  Her  heart  went  forth  in  exclamations, 
wailing  and  weeping ;  but  reason  dictated  the  words. 

Informed  by  Louise  that  all  was  ready,  the  young  wife 
slowly  went  round  the  little  garden,  through  the  bedroom  and 
drawing-room,  looking  at  everything  for  the  last  time.  Then 
she  earnestly  enjoined  on  the  cook  to  take  the  greatest  care 
for  her  master's  comfort,  promising  to  reward  her  handsomely 
if  she  would  be  honest.  At  last  she  got  into  the  hackney- 
coach  to  drive  to  her  mother's  house,  her  heart  quite  broken, 
crying  so  much  as  to  distress  the  maid,  and  covering  little 
Wenceslas  with  kisses,  which  betrayed  her  still  unfailing  love 
for  his  father. 

The  baroness  knew  already  from  Lisbeth  that  the  father-in- 
law  was  largely  to  blame  for  the  son-in-law's  fault ;  nor  was 
she  surprised  to  see  her  daughter,  whose  conduct  she  approved, 
and  she  consented  to  give  her  shelter.  Adeline,  perceiving 
that  her  own  gentleness  and  patience  had  never  checked 
Hector,  for  whom  her  respect  was  indeed  fast  diminishing, 
thought  her  daughter  very  right  to  adopt  another  course. 

In  three  weeks  the  poor  mother  had  suffered  two  wounds  of 
which  the  pain  was  greater  than  any  ill-fortune  she  had  hitherto 
endured.  The  baron  had  placed  Victorin  and  his  wife  in  great 
difficulties  ;  and  then,  by  Lisbeth's  account,  he  was  the  cause 
of  his  son-in-law's  misconduct,  and  had  corrupted  Wenceslas. 
The  dignity  of  the  father  of  the  family,  so  long  upheld  by  her 
really  foolish  self-sacrifice,  was  now  overthrown.  Though 
they  did  not  regret  the  money,  the  young  Hulots  were  full 
alike  of  doubts  and  uneasiness  as  regarded  the  baron.  This 
sentiment,  which  was  evident  enough,  distressed  the  baroness; 
she  foresaw  a  break-up  of  the  family  tie. 

Hortense  was  accommodated  in  the  dining-room,  arranged 


COUSIN  BETTY.  269 

as  a  bedroom  with  the  help  of  the  marshal's  money,  and  the 
anteroom  became  the  dining-room,  as  it  is  in  many  families. 

When  Wenceslas  returned  home  and  had  read  the  two  let- 
ters, he  felt  a  kind  of  gladness  mingled  with  regret.  Kept 
so  constantly  under  his  wife's  eye,  so  to  speak,  he  had  in- 
wardly rebelled  against  this  fresh  thralldom,  d  la  Lisbeth. 
Full  fed  with  love  for  three  years  past,  he  too  had  been 
reflecting  during  the  last  fortnight;  and  he  found  a  family 
heavy  on  his  hands.  He  had  just  been  congratulated  by 
Stidmann  on  the  passion  he  had  inspired  in  Valerie;  for 
Stidmann,  with  an  under-thought  that  was  not  unnatural, 
saw  that  he  might  flatter  the  husband's  vanity  in  the  hope 
of  consoling  the  victim.  And  Wenceslas  was  glad  to  be  able 
to  return  to  Madame  Marneffe. 

Still,  he  remembered  the  pure  and  unsullied  happiness  he 
had  known,  the  perfections  of  his  wife,  her  judgment,  her 
iniiOcent  and  guileless  aff"ection — and  he  regretted  her  acutely. 
He  thought  of  going  at  once  to  his  mother-in-law's  to  crave 
forgiveness ;  but,  in  fact,  like  Hulot  and  Crevel,  he  went  to 
Madame  Marneffe,  to  whom  he  carried  his  wife's  letter  to  show 
her  what  a  disaster  she  had  caused,  and  to  discount  his  mis- 
fortune, so  to  speak,  by  claiming  in  return  the  pleasures  his 
mistress  could  give  him. 

He  found  Crevel  with  Valerie.  The  mayor,  puffed  up 
with  pride,  marched  up  and  down  the  room,  agitated  by  a 
storm  of  feelings.  He  put  himself  into  position  as  if  he  were 
about  to  speak,  but  he  dared  not.  His  countenance  was 
beaming,  and  he  went  now  and  again  to  the  window,  where 
he  drummed  on  the  pane  with  his  fingers.  He  kept  looking 
at  Valerie  with  a  glance  of  tender  pathos.  Happily  for  him, 
Lisbeth  presently  came  in. 

** Cousin  Betty,"  said  he  in  her  ear,  "have  you  heard  the 
news  ?  I  am  a  father  !  It  seems  to  me  I  love  my  poor 
Celestine  the  less.     Oh  1  what  a  thing  it  is  to  have  a  child 


270  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

by  the  woman  one  idolizes !  It  is  the  fatherhood  of  the 
heart  added  to  that  of  the  flesh  !  I  say — tell  Valerie  that  I 
will  work  for  that  child — it  shall  be  rich.  She  tells  me 
she  has  some  reason  for  believing  that  it  will  be  a  boy  ! 
If  it  is  a  boy,  I"  shall  insist  on  his  being  called  Crevel.  I 
will  consult  my  notary  about  it." 

"  I  know  how  much  she  loves  you,"  said  Lisbeth.  "  But 
for  her  sake  in  the  future,  and  for  your  own,  control  yourself. 
Do  not  rub  your  hands  every  five  minutes." 

While  Lisbeth  was  speaking  aside  on  this  wise  to  Crevel, 
Valerie  had  asked  Wenceslas  to  give  her  back  her  letter,  and 
she  was  saying  things  that  dispelled  all  his  griefs. 

"  So  now  you  are  free,  my  dear,"  said  she.  "  Ought  any 
great  artist  to  marry  ?  You  live  only  by  fancy  and  freedom  ! 
There,  I  shall  love  you  so  much,  beloved  poet,  that  you  shall 
never  regret  your  wife.  At  the  same  time,  if,  like  so  many 
people,  you  want  to  keep  up  appearances,  I  undertake  to  bring 
Hortense  back  to  you  in  a  very  short  time." 

"  Oh,  if  only  that  were  possible  !  " 

**Iam  certain  of  it,"  said  Valerie  nettled.  "Your  poor 
father-in-law  is  a  man  who  is  in  every  way  utterly  done  for ; 
who  wants  to  appear  as  though  he  could  be  loved,  out  of  con- 
ceit, and  to  make  the  world  believe  that  he  has  a  mistress ; 
and  he  is  so  excessively  vain  on  this  point,  that  I  can  do  what 
I  please  with  him.  The  baroness  is  still  so  devoted  to  her  old 
Hector — I  always  feel  as  if  I  were  talking  of  the  '  Iliad  ' — 
that  these  two  old  folk  will  contrive  to  patch  up  matters 
between  you  and  Hortense.  Only,  if  you  want  to  avoid 
storms  at  home  for  the  future,  do  not  leave  me  for  three  weeks 
without  coming  to  see  your  mistress — I  was  dying  of  it.  My 
dear  boy,  some  consideration  is  due  from  a  gentleman  to  a 
woman  he  has  so  deeply  compromised,  especially  when,  as  in 
my  case,  she  has  to  be  very  careful — exceedingly  careful — of 
her  reputation. 

'*  Stay  to  dinner,  my  darling — and  remember  that  I  must 


COUSIN  BETTY.  271 

treat  you  with  all  the  more  apparent  coldness  because  you  are 
guilty  of  this  too  obvious  mishap." 

Baron  Montez  was  presently  announced ;  Valerie  rose  and 
hurried  forward  to  meet  him  ;  she  spoke  a  few  sentences  in 
his  ear,  enjoining  on  him  the  same  reserve  as  she  had  im- 
pressed on  Wenceslas ;  the  Brazilian  assumed  a  diplomatic 
reticence  suitable  to  the  great  news  which  filled  him  with  de- 
light, for  he,  at  any  rate,  was  sure  of  his  paternity. 

Thanks  to  these  tactics,  based  on  the  vanity  of  man  in  the 
lover  stage  of  his  existence,  Valerie  sat  down  to  table  with 
four  men,  all  pleased  and  eager  to  please,  all  charmed,  and 
each  believing  himself  adored  \  called  by  Marneffe,  who 
included  himself,  in  speaking  to  Lisbeth,  "  the  five  fathers  of 
the  church." 

Baron  Hulot  alone  at  first  showed  an  anxious  countenance, 
and  this  was  why.  Just  as  he  was  leaving  the  office,  the  head 
of  the  staff  of  clerks  had  come  to  his  private  room — a  general 
with  whom  he  had  served  for  thirty  years — and  Hulot  had 
spoken  to  him  as  to  appointing  Marneffe  to  Coquet's  place, 
Coquet  having  consented  to  retire. 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  said  he,  "I  would  not  ask  this  favor  of 
the  prince  without  our  having  agreed  on  the  matter,  and 
knowing  that  you  approved." 

''  My  good  friend,"  replied  the  other,  "  you  must  allow  me 
to  observe  that,  for  your  own  sake,  you  should  not  insist  on 
this  nomination.  I  have  already  told  you  my  opinion.  There 
would  be  a  scandal  in  the  office,  where  there  is  a  great  deal 
too  much  talk  already  about  you  and  Madame  Marneffe.  This, 
of  course,  is  between  ourselves.  I  have  no  wish  to  touch  you  on 
a  sensitive  spot,  or  disoblige  you  in  any  way,  and  I  will  prove 
it.  If  you  are  determined  to  get  Monsieur  Coquet's  place, 
and  he  will  really  be  a  loss  in  the  War  Office,  for  he  has  been 
here  since  1809,  I  will  go  into  the  country  for  a  couple  of 
weeks,  so  as  to  leave  the  field  open  between  you  and  the  marshal, 
who  loves  you  as  a  son.     Then  I  shall  take  neither  part,  and 


272  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

shall  have  nothing  on  my  conscience  as  an  administrator  of 
the  department." 

"  Thank  you  very  much,"  said  Hulot.  "  I  will  reflect  on 
what  you  have  said," 

"In  allowing  myself  to  say  so  much,  my  dear  friend,  it  is 
because  your  personal  interest  is  far  more  deeply  implicated 
than  any  concern  or  vanity  of  mine.  In  the  first  place,  the 
matter  lies  entirely  with  the  marshal.  And  then,  my  good 
fellow,  we  are  blamed  for  so  many  things,  that  one  more  or 
less  scarcely  signifies  !  We  are  not  at  the  maiden  stage  in  our 
experience  of  fault-finding.  Under  the  Restoration,  men  were 
put  in  simply  to  give  them  places,  without  any  regard  for  the 
office.     We  are  old  friends " 

"  Yes,"  the  baron  put  in  ;  "  and  it  is  in  order  not  to  impair 
our  old  and  valued  friendship  that  I " 

"Well,  well,"  said  the  departmental  manager,  seeing  Hu- 
lot's  face  clouded  with  embarrassment,  "I  will  take  myself 
off,  old  fellow.  But  I  warn  you  !  you  have  enemies — that  is 
to  say,  men  who  covet  your  splendid  appointment,  and  you 
have  but  one  anchor  out.  Now  if,  like  me,  you  were  a  deputy, 
you  would  have  nothing  to  fear;  so  mind  what  you  are 
about." 

This  speech,  in  the  most  friendly  spirit,  made  a  deep  im- 
pression on  the  councilor  of  State. 

"But,  after  all,  Roger,  what  is  it  that  is  wrong?  Do  not 
make  any  mysteries  with  me." 

The  individual  addressed  as  Roger,  looked  at  Hulot,  took 
his  hand,  and  pressed  it. 

"We  are  such  old  friends,  that  I  am  bound  to  give  you 
warning.  If  you  want  to  keep  your  place,  you  must  make  a 
bed  for  yourself,  and  instead  of  asking  the  marshal  to  give  Co- 
quet's  place  to  Marneffe,  in  your  place  I  would  beg  him  to 
use  his  influence  to  reserve  a  seat  for  me  on  the  General 
Council  of  State ;  there  you  may  die  in  peace,  and,  like  the 
beaver,  abandon  all  else  to  the  pursuers." 


COL  SIN  BETTY.  27S 

"What,  do  you  think  the  marshal  would  forget ?" 

"The  marshal  has  already  taken  your  part  so  warmly  at  a 
General  Meeting  of  the  Ministers,  that  you  will  not  now  be 
turned  out;  but  it  is  seriously  discussed !  So  give  them  no  ex- 
cuse. I  can  say  no  more.  At  this  moment  you  may  make  your 
own  terms;  you  may  sit  on  the  Council  of  State  and  be  made  a 
peer  of  the  Chamber.  If  you  delay  too  long,  if  you  give  any 
one  a  hold  against  you,  I  can  answer  for  nothing.  Now,  am 
I  to  go?" 

"Wait  a  little.  I  will  see  the  marshal,"  replied  Hulot, 
"and  I  will  send  my  brother  to  see  which  way  the  wind  blows 
at  headquarters." 

The  humor  in  which  the  baron  came  back  to  Madame  Mar- 
neffe's  may  be  imagined ;  he  had  almost  forgotten  his  father- 
hood, for  Roger  had  taken  the  part  of  a  true  and  kind  friend 
in  explaining  the  position.  At  the  same  time  Valerie's  influ- 
ence was  so  great  that,  by  the  middle  of  dinner,  the  baron 
was  tuned  up  to  the  pitch,  and  was  all  the  more  cheerful  for 
having  unwonted  anxieties  to  conceal ;  but  the  hapless  man 
was  not  yet  aware  that  in  the  course  of  that  evening  he  would 
find  himself  in  a  cleft  stick,  between  his  happiness  and  the 
danger  pointed  out  by  his  friend — compelled,  in  short,  to 
choose  between  Madame  Marneffe  and  his  official  position. 

At  eleven  o'clock,  when  the  evening  was  at  its  gayest,  for 
the  room  was  full  of  company,  Valerie  drew  Hector  into  a 
corner  of  her  sofa. 

"  My  dear  old  boy,"  said  she,  "  your  daughter  is  so  annoyed 
at  knowing  that  Wenceslas  comes  here,  that  she  has  left  him 
'planted.'  Hortense  is  wrong-headed.  Ask  Wenceslas  to 
show  you  the  letter  the  little  fool  has  written  to  him. 

"  This  division  of  two  lovers,  of  which  I  am  reputed  to  be 
the  cause,  may  do  me  the  greatest  harm,  for  this  is  how  vir- 
tuous women  undermine  each  other.  It  is  disgraceful  to  pose 
as  a  victim  in  order  to  cast  the  blame  on  a  woman  whose  only 
18 


274  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

crime  is  that  she  keeps  a  pleasant  house.  If  you  love  me, 
you  will  clear  my  character  by  reconciling  the  sweet  turtle- 
doves. 

*'I  do  not  in  the  least  care  about  your  son-in-law's  visits; 
you  brought  him  here — take  him  away  again  !  If  you  have 
any  authority  in  your  family,  it  seems  to  me  that  you  may 
very  well  insist  on  your  wife's  patching  up  this  squabble.  Tell 
the  worthy  old  lady  from  me,  that  if  I  am  unjustly  charged 
with  having  caused  a  young  couple  to  quarrel,  with  upsetting 
the  unity  of  a  family,  and  annexing  both  the  father  and  the 
son-in-law,  I  will  deserve  my  reputation  by  annoying  them  in 
my  own  way !  Why,  here  is  Lisbeth  talking  of  throwing  me 
over !  She  prefers  to  stick  to  her  family,  and  I  cannot  blame 
her  for  it.  She  will  throw  me  over,  says  she,  unless  the  young 
people  make  friends  again.  A  pretty  state  of  things  !  Our 
expenses  here  will  be  trebled  !  " 

"Oh,  as  for  that!"  said  the  baron,  on  hearing  of  his 
daughter's  strong  measures,  "  I  will  have  no  nonsense  of  that 
kind." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Valerie.  "  And  now  for  the  next  thing : 
What  about  Coquet's  place?" 

"That,"  said  Hector,  looking  away,  "is  more  difficult, 
not  to  say  impossible." 

"Impossible,  my  dear  Hector?"  said  Madame  Marneffe  in 
the  baron's  ear.  "  But  you  do  not  know  to  what  lengths 
Marneffe  will  go.  I  am  completely  in  his  power ;  he  is  im- 
moral for  his  own  gratification,  like  most  men,  but  he  is  exces- 
sively vindictive,  like  all  weak  and  impotent  natures.  In  the 
position  to  which  you  have  reduced  me,  I  am  in  his  power. 
I  am  bound  to  be  on  terms  with  him  for  a  few  days,  and  he  is 
quite  capable  of  refusing  to  leave  my  room  any  more." 

Hulot  started  with  horror. 

"  He  would  leave  me  alone  on  condition  of  being  head- 
clerk.     It  is  abominable — but  logical." 

"  Val6rie,  do  you  love  me?" 


COUSIN  BETTY.  275 

'*  In  the  state  in  which  I  am,  my  dear,  the  question  is  the 
meanest  insult." 

"Well,  then — if  I  were  to  attempt,  merely  to  attempt,  to 
ask  the  prince  for  a  place  for  Marneffe,  I  should  be  done  for, 
and  Marneffe  would  be  turned  out." 

**  I  thought  that  you  and  the  prince  were  such  intimate 
friends." 

"We  are,  and  he  has  amply  proved  it;  but,  my  child, 
there  is  authority  above  the  marshal's — for  instance,  the  whole 
Council  of  Ministers.  With  time  and  a  little  tacking,  we 
shall  get  there.  But,  to  succeed,  I  must  wait  till  the  moment 
when  some  service  is  required  of  me.  Then  I  can  say  one 
good  turn  deserves  another " 

"  If  I  tell  Marneffe  this  tale,  my  poor  Hector,  he  will  play 
us  some  mean  trick.  You  must  tell  him  yourself  that  he  has 
to  wait.  I  will  not  undertake  to  do  so.  Oh  !  I  know  what 
my  fate  would  be.     He  knows  how  to  punish  me  !     He  will 

henceforth  share  my  room Do  not  forget  to  settle  the 

twelve  hundred  francs  a  year  on  the  little  one  !  " 

Hulot,  seeing  his  pleasures  in  danger,  took  Monsieur  Mar- 
neffe aside,  and  for  the  first  time  derogated  from  the  haughty 
tone  he  had  always  assumed  toward  him,  so  greatly  was  he 
horrified  by  the  thought  of  that  half-dead  creature  in  his 
pretty  young  wife's  bedroom. 

"  Marneffe,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  he,  "I  have  been  talking 
of  you  to-day.  But  you  cannot  be  promoted  to  the  first-class 
just  yet.  '  We  must  have  time." 

"  I  will  be.  Monsieur  le  Baron,"  said  Marneffe  shortly  and 
impertinently. 

"But,  my  dear  fellow " 

"I  2(7/7/ be.  Monsieur  le  Baron,"  Marneffe  coldly  repeated, 
looking  alternately  at  the  baron  and  at  Valerie.  "  You  have 
placed  my  wife  in  a  position  that  necessitates  her  making  up 
her  differences  with  me,  and  I  mean  to  keep  her ;  for,  my  dear 
fellow,  she  is  a  charming  creature,"  he  added,  with  crushing 


276  THE   POOR  PARENTS. 

irony.  *'I  am  master  here — more  than  you  are  at  the  War 
Office." 

The  baron  felt  one  of  those  pangs  of  fury  which  have  the 
effect,  in  the  heart,  of  a  fit  of  raging  toothache,  and  he  could 
hardly  conceal  the  tears  in  his  eyes. 

During  this  little  scene,  Valerie  had  been  explaining  Mar- 
neffe's  imaginary  determination  to  Montdz,  and  thus  had  rid 
herself  of  him  for  a  time. 

Of  her  four  adherents,  Crevel  alone  was  exempted  from 
the  rule — Crevel,  the  master  of  the  little  "  bijou  "  apartments ; 
and  he  displayed  on  his  countenance  an  air  of  really  insolent 
beatitude,  notwithstanding  the  wordless  reproofs  administered 
by  Valerie  in  frowns  and  meaning  grimaces.  His  triumphant 
paternity  beamed  in  every  feature. 

When  Valerie  was  whispering  a  word  of  correction  in  his 
ear,  he  snatched  her  hand,  and  put  in — 

**  To-morrow,  my  duchess,  you  shall  have  your  own  little 
house  !     The  papers  are  to  be  signed  to-morrow." 

"And  the  furniture?"  said  she,  with  a  smile. 

*•  I  have  a  thousand  shares  in  the  Versailles  rive  gauche  (left 
shore)  railway.  I  bought  them  at  twenty-five,  and  they  will 
go  up  to  three  hundred  in  consequence  of  the  amalgamation 
of  the  two  lines,  which  is  a  secret  told  to  me.  You  shall 
have  furniture  fit  for  a  queen.  But  then  you  will  be  mine 
alone  henceforth  ?  " 

"Yes,  burly  maire,"  said  this  middle-class  Madame  de 
Merteuil.  "  But  behave  yourself;  respect  the  future  Madame 
Crevel." 

"My  dear  cousin,"  Lisbeth  was  saying  to  the  baron,  "I 
shall  go  to  see  Adeline  early  to-morrow ;  for,  as  you  must  see,  I 
cannot,  with  any  decency,  remain  here.  I  will  go  and  keep 
house  for  your  brother  the  marshal." 

"I  am  going  home  this  evening,"  said  Hulot. 

"Very  well,  you  will  see  me  at  breakfast  to-morrow,"  said 
Lisbeth,  smiling. 


COUSIN  BETTY.  277 

She  understood  that  her  presence  would  be  necessary  at  the 
family  scene  that  would  take  place  on  the  morrow.  And  the 
very  first  thing  in  the  morning  she  went  to  see  Victorin  and 
to  tell  him  that  Hortense  and  Wenceslas  had  parted. 

When  the  baron  went  home  at  half- past  ten,  Mariette  and 
Louise,  who  had  had  a  hard  day,  were  locking  up  the  apart- 
ment, so  Hulot  had  not  to  ring. 

Very  much  put  out  at  this  compulsory  virtue,  the  husband 
went  straight  to  his  wife's  room,  and  through  the  half-open 
door  he  saw  her  kneeling  before  her  crucifix,  absorbed  in 
prayer,  in  one  of  those  attitudes  which  make  the  fortune  of 
the  painter  or  the  sculptor  who  is  so  happy  to  invent  and  then 
to  express  them.  Adeline,  carried  away  by  her  enthusiasm, 
was  praying  aloud — 

"  O  God,  have  mercy  and  enlighten  him  !  " 

The  baroness  was  praying  for  her  Hector. 

At  this  sight,  so  unlike  what  he  had  just  left,  and  on  hear- 
ing this  petition  founded  on  the  events  of  the  day,  the  baron 
heaved  a  sigh  of  deep  emotion.  Adeline  looked  round,  her 
face  drowned  in  tears.  She  was  so  convinced  that  her  prayer 
had  been  heard,  that,  with  one  spring,  she  threw  her  arms 
round  Hector  with  the  impetuosity  of  happy  affection.  Ade- 
line had  given  up  all  a  wife's  instincts ;  sorrow  had  effaced 
even  the  memory  of  them.  No  feeling  survived  in  her  but 
those  of  motherhood,  of  the  family  honor,  and  the  pure 
attachment  of  a  Christian  wife  for  a  husband  who  had  gone 
astray — the  saintly  tenderness  which  survives  all  else  in  a 
woman's  soul. 

"Hector!  "she  said,  "are  you  come  back  to  us?  Has 
God  taken  pity  on  our  family  ?  " 

"Dear  Adeline,"  replied  the  baron,  coming  in  and  seating 
his  wife  by  his  side  on  a  couch,  "  you  are  the  saintliest  creature 
I  ever  knew ;  I  have  long  known  myself  to  be  unworthy  of 
you." 

"You  would  have  very  little  to  do,  my  dear,"  said  she. 


278  THE  POOR   PARENTS. 

holding  Hulot's  hand  and  trembling  so  violently  that  it  was 
as  though  she  had  a  palsy,  "  very  little  to  set  things  in  order 
and " 

She  dared  not  proceed ;  she  felt  that  every  word  would  be  a 
reproof,  and  she  did  not  wish  to  mar  the  happiness  with  which 
this  meeting  was  inundating  her  soul. 

"It  is  Hortense  who  has  brought  me  here,"  said  Hulot. 
"  That  child  may  do  us  far  more  harm  by  her  hasty  proceeding 
than  my  absurd  passion  for  Valerie  has  ever  done.  But  we 
will  discuss  all  this  to-morrow  morning.  Hortense  is  asleep, 
Mariette  tells  me ;  we  will  not  disturb  her." 

"Yes,"  said  Madame  Hulot,  suddenly  plunged  into  the 
depths  of  grief. 

She  understood  that  the  baron's  return  was  prompted  not 
so  much  by  the  wish  to  see  his  family  as  by  some  ulterior 
interest. 

"Leave  her  in  peace  till  to-morrow,"  said  the  mother. 
"  The  poor  child  is  in  a  deplorable  condition  ;  she  has  been 
crying  all  day." 

At  nine  next  morning,  the  baron,  awaiting  his  daughter, 
whom  he  had  sent  for,  was  pacing  the  large,  deserted  drawing- 
room,  trying  to  find  arguments  by  which  to  conquer  the  most 
difficult  form  of  obstinacy  there  is  to  deal  with — that  of  a 
young  wife,  offended  and  implacable,  as  blameless  youth  ever 
is,  in  its  ignorance  of  the  disgraceful  compromises  of  the 
world,  of  its  passions  and  interests. 

"Here  I  am,  papa,"  said  Hortense  in  a  tremulous  voice, 
and  looking  pale  from  her  miseries. 

Hulot,  sitting  down,  took  his  daughter  round  the  waist,  and 
drew  her  down  to  sit  on  his  knee. 

"Well,  my  child,"  said  he,  kissing  her  forehead,  "so  there 
are  troubles  at  home,  and  you  have  been  hasty  and  headstrong  ? 
That  is  not  like  a  well-bred  child.  My  Hortense  ought  not 
to  have  taken  such  a  decisive  step  as  that  of  leaving  her  house 


COUSIN  BETTY.  279 

and  deserting  her  husband  on  her  own  account,  and  without 
consulting  her  parents.  If  my  darling  girl  had  come  to  see 
her  kind  and  admirable  mother,  she  would  not  have  given  me 
the  cruel  pain  I  feel !  You  do  not  know  the  world ;  it  is 
malignantly  spiteful.  People  will  perhaps  say  that  your  hus- 
band sent  you  back  to  your  parents.  Children  brought  up, 
as  you  were,  on  your  mother's  lap,  remain  children  longer 
than  others ;  they  know  nothing  of  life.  An  artless,  maidenly 
passion  like  yours  for  Wencesias,  unfortunately,  makes  no 
allowances;  it  acts  on  every  impulse.  The  little  heart  is 
moved,  the  head  follows  suit.  You  would  burn  down  Paris 
to  be  revenged,  with  no  thought  of  the  courts  of  justice  ! 

"When  your  old  father  tells  you  that  you  have  outraged 
the  proprieties,  you  may  take  his  word  for  it.  I  say  nothing 
of  the  cruel  pain  you  have  given  me.  It  is  bitter,  I  assure 
you,  for  you  throw  all  the  blame  on  a  woman  of  whose  heart 
you  know  nothing,  and  whose  hostility  may  become  disastrous. 
And  you,  alas !  so  full  of  guileless  innocence  and  purity,  can 
have  no  suspicions ;  but  you  may  be  vilified  and  slandered. 
Beside,  my  darling  pet,  you  have  taken  a  foolish  jest  too 
seriously.  I  can  assure  you,  on  my  honor,  that  your  husband 
is  blameless.     Madame  Marneffe " 

So  far  the  baron,  artistically  diplomatic,  had  formulated  his 
remonstrances  very  judiciously.  He  had,  as  may  be  observed, 
worked  up  to  the  mention  of  this  name  with  superior  skill ; 
and  yet  Hortense,  as  she  heard  it,  winced  as  if  stung  to  the 
quick. 

"  Listen  to  me  :  I  have  had  great  experience,  and  I  have 
seen  much,"  he  went  on,  stopping  his  daughter's  attempt  to 
speak.  "That  lady  is  very  cold  to  your  husband.  Yes, 
you  have  been  made  the  victim  of  a  practical  joke,  and  I 
will  prove  it  to  you.  Yesterday  Wencesias  was  dining  with 
her " 

"  Dining  with  her  !  "  cried  the  young  wife,  starting  to  her 
feet,  and  looking  at  her  father  with  horror  in  every  feature. 


280  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

"  Yesterday .  After  having  had  my  letter  !  Oh,  great  God  ! 
Why  did  I  not  take  the  veil  rather  than  marry  ?  But  now  my 
life  is  not  my  own  !     I  have  the  child  !  "  and  she  sobbed. 

Her  weeping  went  to  Madame  Hulot's  heart.  She  came 
out  of  her  room  and  ran  to  her  daughter,  taking  her  in  her 
arms,  and  asking  her  those  questions,  stupid  with  grief,  which 
first  rose  to  her  lips. 

'*  Now  we  have  tears,"  said  the  baron  to  himself,  "and  all 
was  going  so  well !  What  is  to  be  done  with  women  who 
cry?" 

**My  child,"  said  the  baroness,  "listen  to  your  father! 
He  loves  us  all — come,  come " 

"Come,  Hortense,  my  dear  little  girl,  cry  no  more,  you 
make  yourself  too  ugly  !  "  said  the  baron.  "  Now,  be  a  little 
reasonable.  Go  sensibly  home,  and  I  promise  you  that  Wen- 
ceslas  shall  never  again  set  foot  in  that  woman's  house.  I  ask 
you  to  make  that  sacrifice,  if  it  is  a  sacrifice  to  forgive  the  hus- 
band you  love  so  small  a  fault.  I  ask  you — for  the  sake  of  my 
gray  hairs,  and  of  the  love  you  owe  your  mother.  You  do  not 
want  to  blight  my  later  years  with  bitterness  and  regret? " 

Hortense  fell  at  her  father's  feet  like  a  crazed  thing,  with 
the  vehemence  of  despair ;  her  hair,  loosely  pinned  up,  fell 
about  her,  and  she  held  out  her  hands  with  an  expression  that 
painted  her  misery. 

"Father,"  she  said,  "ask  my  life!  Take  it  if  you  will, 
but  at  least  take  it  pure  and  spotless,  and  I  will  yield  it  up 
gladly.  Do  not  ask  me  to  die  in  dishonor  and  crime.  I  am 
not  at  all  like  my  husband ;  I  cannot  swallow  an  outrage.  If 
I  went  back  under  my  husband's  roof,  I  should  be  capable  of 
smothering  him  in  a  fit  of  jealousy — or  of  doing  worse  !  Do 
not  exact  from  me  a  thing  that  is  beyond  my  powers.  Do  not 
have  to  mourn  for  me  still  living,  for  the  least  that  can  befall 
me  is  to  go  mad.     I  feel  madness  close  upon  me  ! 

"Yesterday,  yesterday,  he  could  dine  with  that  woman, 
after  having  read  my  letter  ?    Are  other  men  made  so  ?     My 


HORTENSE    FELL    AT    HER    FATHER'S     FEET    LIKE    A 
CRAZED    THING. 


COUSIN  BETTY.  281 

life  I  give  you,  but  do  not  let  my  death  be  ignominious  !  His 
fault  ? — a  small  one  !     When  he  has  a  child  by  that  woman  !  " 

**A  child!"  cried  Hulot,  starting  back  a  step  or  two. 
"Come.    This  is  really  some  fooling." 

At  this  juncture  Victorin  and  Lisbeth  arrived,  and  stood 
dumfounded  at  the  scene.  The  daughter  was  prostrate  at  her 
father's  feet.  The  baroness,  speechless  between  her  maternal 
feelings  and  her  conjugal  duty,  shov/ed  a  harassed  face  bathed 
in  tears. 

"  Lisbeth,"  said  the  baron,  seizing  his  cousin  by  the  hand 
and  pointing  to  Hortense,  "  you  can  help  me  here.  My  poor 
child's  brain  is  turned  ;  she  believes  that  her  Wenceslas  is 
Madame  Marneffe's  lover,  while  all  that  Valerie  wanted  was 
to  have  a  group  by  him." 

"Of  Delilah!''  cried  the  young  wife.  "The  only  thing 
he  has  done  since  our  marriage.  The  man  would  not  work 
for  me  or  for  his  son,  and  he  has  worked  with  frenzy  for  that 
good-for-nothing  creature.  Oh,  father,  kill  me  outright,  for 
every  word  stabs  like  a  knife  !  " 

Lisbeth  turned  to  the  baroness  and  Victorin,  pointing  with 
a  pitying  shrug  to  the  baron,  who  could  not  see  her. 

"  Listen  to  me,"  said  she  to  him.  "  I  had  no  idea — when 
you  asked  me  to  go  to  lodge  over  Madame  Marneflfe  and 
keep  house  for  her — I  had  no  idea  of  what  she  was ;  but  many 
things  may  be  learned  in  three  years.  That  creature  is  a 
prostitute,  and  one  whose  depravity  can  only  be  compared 
with  that  of  the  infamous  and  horrible  husband.  You  are  the 
dupe,  my  lord  pot-boiler,  of  those  people;  you  will  be  led 
further  by  them  than  you  dream  of?  I  speak  plainly,  for  you 
are  at  the  bottom  of  a  pit." 

The  baroness  and  her  daughter,  hearing  Lisbeth  speak  in 
this  style,  cast  adoring  looks  at  her,  such  as  the  devout  cast 
at  a  Madonna  for  having  saved  their  life. 

"  That  horrible  woman  was  bent  on  destroying  your  son-in- 
law's  home.     To  what  end  ? — I  know  not.     My  brain  is  not 


282  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

equal  to  seeing  clearly  into  these  dark  intrigues — perverse, 
ignoble,  infamous  !  Your  Madame  Marneffe  does  not  love 
your  son-in-law,  but  she  will  have  him  at  her  feet  out  of  re- 
venge. I  have  just  spoken  to  the  wretched  woman  as  she  de- 
serves. She  is  a  shameless  courtesan ;  I  have  told  her  that 
I  am  leaving  her  house,  that  I  would  not  have  my  honor 
smirched  in  that  sink  of  depravity.  I  owe  myself  to  my 
family  before  all  else. 

"  I  knew  that  Hortense  had  left  her  husband,  so  here  I  am. 
Your  Valerie,  whom  you  believe  to  be  a  saint,  is  the  cause  of 
this  miserable  separation  ;  can  I  remain  with  such  a  woman  ? 
Our  poor  little  Hortense,"  said  she,  touching  the  baron's  arm, 
with  peculiar  meaning,  "  is  perhaps  the  dupe  of  a  wish  of  such 
women  as  these,  who,  to  possess  a  toy,  would  really  sacrifice 
a  family. 

"I  do  not  think  Wenceslas  guilty;  but  I  think  him  weak, 
and  I  cannot  promise  that  he  will  not  yield  to  her  refinements 
of  temptation.  My  mind  is  made  up.  The  woman  is  fatal 
to  you  ;  she  will  bring  you  all  to  utter  ruin.  I  will  not  even 
seem  to  be  concerned  in  the  destruction  of  my  own  family, 
after  living  there  for  three  years  solely  to  hinder  it. 

"  You  are  cheated,  baron ;  assert  very  positively  that  you 
will  have  nothing  to  say  to  the  promotion  of  that  dreadful 
Marneffe,  and  you  will  see  then  !  There  is  a  fine  rod  in  pickle 
for  you  in  that  case." 

Lisbeth  lifted  up  Hortense  and  kissed  her  enthusiastically. 

**  My  dear  Hortense,  stand  firm,"  she  whispered. 

The  baroness  embraced  Lisbeth  with  the  vehemence  of  a 
woman  who  sees  herself  avenged.  The  whole  family  stood  in 
perfect  silence  round  the  father,  who  had  wit  enough  to  know 
what  that  silence  implied.  A  storm  of  fury  swept  across  his 
brow  and  face  with  evident  signs ;  the  veins  swelled,  his  eyes 
were  bloodshot,  his  flesh  showed  patches  of  color.  Adeline 
fell  on  her  knees  before  him  and  seized  his  hands. 

"  My  dear,  forgive,  my  dear !  " 


COUSIN  BETTY.  283 

"You  loathe  me !  "  cried  the  baron — the  cry  of  his  con- 
science. 

For  we  all  know  the  secret  of  our  own  wrongdoing.  We 
almost  always  ascribe  to  our  victims  the  hateful  feelings  which 
must  fill  them  with  the  hope  of  revenge  ;  and  in  spite  of  every 
effort  of  hypocrisy,  our  tongue  or  our  face  makes  confession 
under  the  rack  of  some  unexpected  anguish,  as  the  criminal 
of  old  confessed  under  the  hands  of  the  torturer. 

"  Our  children,"  he  went  on,  to  retract  the  avowal,  "  turn 
at  last  to  be  our  enemies " 

**  Father!  "  Victorin  began. 

"  You  dare  to  interrupt  your  father  !  "  said  the  baron  in  a 
voice  of  thunder,  glaring  at  his  son. 

"Father,  listen  to  me,"  Victorin  went  on  in  a  clear,  firm 
voice,  the  voice  of  a  puritanical  deputy.  "  I  know  the  respect 
I  owe  you  too  well  ever  to  fail  in  it,  and  you  will  always  find 
me  the  most  respectful  and  submissive  of  sons." 

Those  who  are  in  the  habit  of  attending  the  sittings  of  the 
Chamber  will  recognize  the  tactics  of  parliamentary  warfare 
in  these  find-drawn  phrases,  used  to  calm  the  factions  while 
gaining  time. 

"We  are  far  from  being  your  enemies,"  his  son  went  on.  "I 
have  quarreled  with  my  father-in-law,  Monsieur  Crevel,  for 
having  rescued  your  notes  of  hand  for  sixty  thousand  francs 
from  Vauvinet,  and  that  money  is,  beyond  doubt,  in  Madame 
Marneffe's  pocket.  I  am  not  finding  fault  with  you,  father," 
said  he,  in  reply  to  an  impatient  gesture  of  the  baron's;  "I 
simply  wish  to  add  my  protest  to  my  Cousin  Lisbeth's,  and  to 
point  out  to  you  that  though  my  devotion  to  you  as  a  father  is 
blind  and  unlimited,  my  dear  father,  our  pecuniary  resources, 
unfortunately,  are  limited." 

"Money  !  "  cried  the  excitable  old  man,  dropping  on  to  a 
chair,  quite  crushed  by  this  argument.  "  From  my  son  ! 
You  shall  be  repaid  your  money,  sir,"  said  he,  rising,  and  he 
went  to  the  door. 


284  THE  POOR   PARENTS. 

"Hector!" 

At  this  cry  the  baron  turned  round,  suddenly  showing  his 
wife  a  face  bathed  in  tears ;  she  threw  her  arms  round  him 
with  the  strength  of  despair. 

**  Do  not  leave  us  thus — do  not  go  away  in  anger.  I  have 
not  said  a  word — not  I !  " 

At  this  heart-wrung  speech  the  children  fell  at  their  father's 
feet. 

"We  all  love  you,"  said  Hortense. 

Lisbeth,  as  rigid  as  a  statue,  watched  the  group  with  a 
superior  smile  on  her  lips.  Just  then  Marshal  Hulot's  voice 
was  heard  in  the  anteroom.  The  family  all  felt  the  impor- 
tance of  secrecy,  and  the  scene  suddenly  changed.  The 
young  people  rose,  and  every  one  tried  to  hide  all  traces  of 
emotion. 

A  discussion  was  going  on  at  the  door  between  Mariette 
and  a  soldier,  who  was  so  persistent  that  the  cook  came  in. 

"  Monsieur,  a  regimental  quartermaster,  who  says  he  is  just 
come  from  Algiers,  insists  on  seeing  you." 

"Tell  him  to  wait." 

"Monsieur,"  said  Mariette  to  her  master  ...  an  undertone, 
"  he  told  me  to  tell  you  privately  that  it  has  to  do  with  your 
uncle  there." 

The  baron  started ;  he  believed  that  the  funds  had  been 
sent  at  last  which  he  had  been  asking  for  these  two  months, 
to  pay  up  his  bills  \  he  left  the  family-party  and  hurried  out 
to  the  anteroom. 

"  You  are  Mounsieur  de  Paron  Hulot  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"Your  own  self?" 

"My  own  self." 

The  man,  who  had  been  fumbling  meanwhile  in  the  lining 
of  his  cap,  drew  out  a  letter,  of  which  the  baron  hastily  broke 
the  seal,  and  read  as  follows : 


COUSIN  BETTY.  285 

"Dear  Nephew: — Far  from  being  able  to  send  you  the 
hundred  thousand  francs  you  ask  of  me,  my  present  position 
is  not  tenable  unless  you  can  take  some  decisive  steps  to  save 
me.  We  are  saddled  with  a  public  prosecutor  who  talks 
goody,  and  rhodomontades  nonsense  about  the  management. 
It  is  impossible  to  get  the  black-chokered  pump  to  hold  his 
tongue.  If  the  War  Minister  allows  civilians  to  feed  out  of 
his  hand,  I  am  done  for.  I  can  trust  the  bearer ;  try  to  get 
him  promoted  ;  he  has  done  us  good  service.  Do  not  abandon 
me  to  the  crows  !  " 

This  letter  was  a  thunderbolt ;  the  baron  could  read  in  it 
the  internecine  warfare  between  the  civil  and  military  authori- 
ties, which  to  this  day  hampers  the  Government,  and  he  was 
required  to  invent  on  the  spot  some  palliative  for  the  difficulty 
that  stared  him  in  the  face.  He  desired  the  soldier  to  come 
back  next  day,  dismissing  him  with  splendid  promises  of  pro- 
motion, and  he  returned  to  the  drawing-room.  "  Good-day 
and  good-by,  brother,"  said  he  to  the  marshal.  "Adieu, 
children.  Farewell,  my  dear  Adeline.  And  what  are  you 
going  to  do,  Lisbeth  ?  "  he  asked. 

*'  I  ?  I  am  going  to  keep  house  for  the  marshal,  for  I 
must  end  my  days  doing  what  I  can  for  one  or  another  of 
you." 

"Do  not  leave  Valerie  till  I  have  seen  you  again,"  said 
Hulot  in  his  cousin's  ear.  "Good-by,  Hortense,  refractory 
little  puss;  try  to  be  reasonable.  I  have  important  business 
to  be  attended  to  at  once ;  we  will  discuss  you  reconciliation 
another  time.  Now,  think  it  over,  my  child,"  said  he  as  he 
kissed  her. 

And  he  went  away,  so  evidently  uneasy  that  his  wife  and 
children  felt  the  gravest  apprehensions. 

"Lisbeth,"  said  the  baroness,  "I  must  find  out  what  is 
wrong  with  Hector ;  I  never  saw  him  in  such  a  state.  Stay  a 
day  or  two  longer  with  that  woman  ;  he  tells  her  everything^ 


286  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

and  we  can  en  learn  what  has  so  suddenly  upset  him.  Be 
quite  easy  ;  we  will  arrange  your  marriage  to  the  marshal,  for 
it  is  really  necessary." 

**  I  shall  never  forget  the  courage  you  have  shown  this 
morning,"  said  Hortense,  embracing  Lisbeth. 

"You  have  avenged  our  poor  mother,"  said  Victorin. 

The  marshal  looked  on  with  curiosity  at  all  the  display  of 
affection  lavished  on  Lisbeth,  who  went  off  to  report  the  scene 
to  Valerie. 

This  sketch  will  enable  guileless  souls  to  understand  what 
various  mischief  Madame  Marneffes  may  do  in  a  family,  and 
the  means  by  which  they  reach  poor  virtuous  wives  apparently 
so  far  out  of  their  ken.  And  then,  if  we  only  transfer,  in 
fancy,  such  doings  to  the  upper  class  of  society  about  a  throne, 
and  if  we  consider  what  kings'  mistresses  must  have  cost  them, 
we  may  estimate  the  debt  owed  by  a  nation  to  a  sovereign  who 
sets  the  example  of  a  decent  and  domestic  life. 

In  Paris  each  ministry  is  a  little  town  by  itself,  whence 
women  are  banished ;  but  there  is  just  as  much  detraction  and 
scandal  as  though  the  feminine  population  were  admitted 
there.  At  the  end  of  three  years,  Monsieur  Marneffe's  posi- 
tion was  perfectly  clear  and  open  to  the  day,  and  in  every 
room  one  and  another  asked,  **  Is  Marneffe  to  be,  or  not  to 
be,  Coquet's  successor?"  Exactly  as  the  question  might 
be  put  to  the  Chamber,  "  Will  the  estimates  pass  or  not 
pass?  "  The  smallest  initiative  on  the  part  of  the  Board  of 
Management  was  commented  on  ;  everything  in  Baron  Hulot's 
department  was  carefully  noted.  The  astute  State  councilor 
had  enlisted  on  his  side  the  victim  of  Marneffe's  promotion,  a 
hard-working  clerk,  telling  him  that  if  he  could  fill  Marneffe's 
place,  he  would  certainly  succeed  to  it ;  he  had  told  him  that 
the  man  was  dying.  So  this  clerk  was  scheming  for  Marneffe's 
advancement. 

When  Hulot  went  through  his  anteroom,  full  of  visitors,  he 


COUSIN  BETTY.  287 

saw  Marneffe's  colorless  face  in  a  corner,  and  sent  for  him 
before  any  one  else. 

"What  do  you  want  of  me,  my  dear  fellow?"  said  the 
baron,  disguising  his  anxiety. 

"  Monsieur  le  Directeur,  I  am  the  laughing-stock  of  the 
oflfice,  for  it  has  become  known  that  the  chief  of  the  clerks 
has  left  this  morning  for  a  holiday,  on  the  ground  of  his 
health.  He  is  to  be  away  a  month.  Now,  we  all  know  what 
waiting  for  a  month  means.  You  deliver  me  over  to  the 
mockery  of  my  enemies,  and  it  is  bad  enough  to  be  drummed 
upon  on  one  side ;  drumming  on  both  at  once,  monsieur,  is 
apt  to  burst  the  drum." 

"  My  dear  Marneffe,  it  takes  long  patience  to  gain  an  end. 
You  cannot  be  made  head-clerk  in  less  than  two  months,  if 
ever.  Just  when  I  must,  as  far  as  possible,  secure  my  own 
position,  is  not  the  time  to  be  applying  for  your  promotion, 
which  would  raise  a  scandal." 

**If  you  are  broke,  I  shall  never  get  it,"  said  Marneffe 
coolly.  "And  if  you  get  me  the  place,  it  will  make  no  differ- 
ence in  the  end." 

"  Tlien  I  am  to  sacrifice  myself  for  you  ?  "  said  the  baron. 

**  If  you  do  not,  I  shall  be  much  mistaken  in  you." 

"You  are  too  exclusively  Marneffe,  Monsieur  Marneffe," 
said  Hulot,  rising  and  showing  the  clerk  the  door. 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  wish  you  good-morning,  Monsieur  le 
Baron,"  said  Marneffe  humbly. 

"What  an  infamous  rascal  !  "  thought  the  baron.  "This 
is  uncommonly  like  a  summons  to  pay  within  twenty-four 
hours  on  pain  of  distraint." 

Two  hours  later,  just  when  the  baron  had  been  instructing 
Claud  Vignon,  whom  he  was  sending  to  the  Ministry  of  Justice 
to  obtain  information  as  to  the  judicial  authorities  under  whose 
jurisdiction  Johann  Fischer  might  fall,  Reine  opened  the  door 
of  his  private  room  and  gave  him  a  note,  saying  she  would 
wait  for  the  answer. 


288  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

"Valerie  is  mad  !  "  said  the  baron  to  himself.  "To  send 
Reine !  It  is  enough  to  compromise  us  all,  and  it  certainly 
compromises  that  dreadful  Marneffe's  chances  of  promotion  !  " 

But  he  dismissed  the  minister's  private  secretary,  and  read 
as  follows : 

*'  Oh,  my  dear  friend,  what  a  scene  I  have  had  to  endure ! 
Though  you  have  made  me  happy  for  three  years,  I  have 
paid  dearly  for  it  !  He  came  in  from  the  office  in  a  rage  that 
made  me  quake.  I  knew  he  was  ugly;  I  have  seen  him  a 
monster !  His  four  real  teeth  chattered,  and  he  threatened 
me  with  his  odious  presence  without  respite  if  I  should  con- 
tinue to  receive  you.  My  poor,  dear  old  boy,  our  door  is 
closed  against  you  henceforth.  You  see  my  tears ;  they  are 
dropping  on  the  paper  and  soaking  it  \  can  you  read  what  I 
write,  dear  Hector?  Oh,  to  think  of  never  seeing  you,  of 
giving  you  up  when  I  bear  in  me  some  of  your  life,  as  I  flatter 
myself  I  have  your  heart — it  is  enough  to  kill  me.  Think  of 
our  little  Hector ! 

"  Do  not  forsake  me,  but  do  not  disgrace  yourself  for  Mar- 
neffe's sake ;  do  not  yield  to  his  threats. 

"  I  love  you  as  I  have  never  loved  !  I  remember  all  the 
sacrifices  you  have  made  for  your  Valerie ;  she  is  not,  and 
never  will  be,  ungrateful ;  you  are,  and  ever  will  be,  my  only 
husband.  Think  no  more  of  the  twelve  hundred  francs  a  year 
I  asked  you  to  settle  on  the  dear  little  Hector  who  is  to  come 
some  months  hence  ;  I  will  not  cost  you  anything  more.  And, 
beside,  my  money  will  always  be  yours. 

"  Oh,  if  you  only  loved  me  as  I  love  you,  my  Hector,  you 
would  retire  on  your  pension  ;  we  should  both  take  leave  of 
our  family,  our  worries,  our  surroundings,  so  full  of  hatred, 
and  we  should  go  to  live  with  Lisbeth  in  some  pretty  country 
place — in  Brittany,  or  wherever  you  like.  There  we  should 
see  nobody,  and  we  should  be  happy  away  from  the  world. 
Your  pension  and  the  little  property  I  can  call  my  own  would 


COUSIN  BETTY.  289 

be  enough  for  us.  You  say  you  are  jealous ;  well,  you  would 
then  have  your  Valerie  entirely  devoted  to  her  Hector,  and 
you  would  never  have  to  talk  in  a  loud  voice,  as  you  did  the 
other  day.  I  shall  have  but  one  child — ours — you  may  be 
sure,  my  dearly  loved  old  veteran. 

"  You  cannot  conceive  of  my  fury,  for  you  cannot  know 
how  he  treated  me,  and  the  foul  words  he  vomited  on  your 
Valerie.  Such  words  would  disgrace  my  paper;  a  woman 
such  as  I  am — Montcornet's  daughter — ought  never  to  have 
heard  one  of  them  in  her  life.  I  only  wish  you  had  been 
there,  that  I  might  have  punished  him  with  the  sight  of  the 
mad  passion  I  felt  for  you.  My  father  would  have  killed  the 
wretch ;  I  can  only  do  as  women  do — love  you  devotedly ! 
Indeed,  my  love,  in  the  state  of  exasperation  in  which  I  am, 
I  cannot  possibly  give  up  seeing  you.  I  must  positively  see 
you,  in  secret,  every  day  !  That  is  what  we  are,  we  women. 
Your  resentment  is  mine.  If  you  love  me,  I  implore  you,  do 
not  let  him  be  promoted;  leave  him  to  die  a  second-class 
clerk ! 

"  At  this  moment  I  have  lost  my  head ;  I  still  seem  to  hear 
him  abusing  me.  Betty,  who  had  meant  to  leave,  has  pity  on 
me,  and  will  stay  for  a  few  days. 

'*  My  dear  kind  love,  I  do  not  know  yet  what  is  to  be  done. 
I  see  nothing  for  it  but  flight.  I  always  delight  in  the  coun- 
try— Brittany,  Languedoc,  what  you  will,  so  long  as  I  am  free 
to  love  you.  Poor  dear,  how  I  pity  you  !  Forced  now  to  go 
back  to  your  old  Adeline,  to  that  lachrymal  urn — for,  as  he 
no  doubt  told  you,  the  monster  means  to  watch  me  night  and 
day ;  he  spoke  of  a  detective !  Do  not  come  here ;  he  is 
capable  of  anything  I  know,  since  he  could  make  use  of  me 
for  the  basest  purposes  of  speculation.  I  only  wish  I  could 
return  you  all  the  things  I  have  received  from  your  noble  gen- 
erosity. 

"  Ah !  my  kind  Hector,  I  may  have  flirted,  and  have 
seemed  to  you  be  fickle,  but  you  did  not  know  your  Valerie ; 
19 


290  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

she  liked  to  tease  you,  but  she  loves  you  better  than  any  one 
in  the  world. 

"  He  cannot  prevent  your  coming  to  see  your  cousin :  I  will 
arrange  with  her  that  we  have  speech  with  each  other.  My 
dear  old  boy,  write  me  just  a  line,  pray,  to  comfort  me  in  the 
absence  of  your  dear  self.  (Oh !  I  would  give  one  of  my 
hands  to  have  you  by  me  on  our  sofa  !)  A  letter  will  work 
like  a  charm  ;  write  me  something  full  of  your  noble  soul ;  I 
will  return  your  note  to  you,  for  I  must  be  cautious ;  I  should 
not  know  where  to  hide  it,  he  pokes  his  nose  in  everywhere. 
In  short,  comfort  Valerie,  your  little  wife,  the  mother  of  your 
child.  To  think  of  my  having  to  write  to  you,  when  I  used 
to  see  you  every  day.  As  I  say  to  Lisbeth,  *  I  did  not  know 
how  happy  I  was  ! '  A  thousand  kisses,  dear  boy.  Be  true 
to  your  Valerie." 

"And  tears!"  said  Hulot  to  himself  as  he  finished  this 
letter,  '*  tears  which  have  blotted  out  her  name.  How  is 
she  ?  "  said  he  to  Reine. 

"Madame  is  in  bed;  she  has  dreadful  spasms,"  replied 
Reine.  "She  had  a  fit  of  hysterics  that  twisted  her  like  a 
withe  round  a  faggot.  It  came  on  after  writing.  It  comes  of 
crying  so  much.     She  heard  monsieur's  voice  on  the  stairs." 

The  baron  in  his  distress  wrote  the  following  note  on  office 
paper  with  a  printed  heading : 

" Be  quite  easy,  my  angel,  he  will  die  a  second-class  clerk! 
Your  idea  is  admirable ;  we  will  go  and  live  far  from  Paris, 
where  we  shall  be  happy  with  our  little  Hector  ;  I  will  retire 
on  my  pension,  and  I  shall  be  sure  to  find  some  good  appoint- 
ment on  a  railway. 

"  Ah,  my  sweet  friend,  I  feel  so  much  the  younger  for  your 
letter !  I  shall  begin  life  again  and  make  a  fortune,  you  will 
see,  for  our  dear  little  one.  As  I  read  your  letter,  a  thousand 
times  mor?  ^dent  than  those  of  the  *  Nouvelle  H61o*ise,'  it 


COUSIN  BETTY.  291 

worked  a  miracle  !     I  had  not  believed  it  possible  that  I  could 
love  you  more.     This  evening,  at  Lisbeth's,  you  will  see 

"Your  Hector,  for  Life." 

Reine  carried  off  this  reply,  the  first  letter  the  baron  had 
written  to  his  "  sweet  friend."  Such  emotions  to  some  extent 
counterbalanced  the  disasters  growling  in  the  distance ;  but 
the  baron,  at  this  moment  believing  he  could  certainly  avert 
the  blows  aimed  at  his  uncle,  Johann  Fischer,  thought  only 
of  the  deficit. 

One  of  the  characteristics  of  the  Bonapartist  temperament 
is  a  firm  belief  in  the  power  of  the  sword,  and  confidence  in 
the  superiority  of  the  military  over  civilians.  Hulot  laughed 
to  scorn  the  public  prosecutor  in  Algiers,  where  the  War  Office 
is  supreme.  Man  is  always  what  he  has  once  been.  How 
can  the  oflScers  of  the  Imperial  Guard  forget  that  time  was 
when  the  mayors  of  the  largest  towns  in  the  Empire  and  the 
Emperor's  prefects,  emperors  themselves  on  a  minute  scale, 
would  come  out  to  meet  the  Imperial  Guard,  to  pay  their  re- 
spects on  the  borders  of  the  departments  through  which  it 
passed,  and  to  do  it,  in  short,  the  homage  due  to  sovereigns? 

At  half-past  four  the  baron  went  straight  to  Madame  Mar- 
neffe's;  his  heart  beat  as  high  as  a  young  man's  as  he  went 
upstairs,  for  he  was  asking  himself  this  question,  "  Shall  I  see 
her  ? — or  shall  I  not  ?  " 

How  was  he  now  to  remember*  the  scene  of  the  morning 
when  his  weeping  children  had  knelt  at  his  feet  ?  Valerie's 
note,  enshrined  for  ever  in  a  thin  pocket-book  over  his  heart, 
proved  to  him  that  she  loved  him  more  than  the  most  charm- 
ing of  young  men. 

Having  rung,  the  unhappy  visitor  heard  within  the  shuffling 
slippers  and  vexatious  scraping  cough  of  the  detestable  master. 
Marneffe  opened  the  door,  but  only  to  put  himself  into  an 
attitude  and  point  to  the  stairs,  exactly  as  Hulot  had  shown 
him  the  door  of  his  private  room. 


292  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

"You  are  too  exclusively  Hulot,  Monsieur  Hulot !  "  said 
he. 

The  baron  tried  to  pass  him,  MarnefFe  took  a  pistol  out  of 
his  pocket  and  cocked  it. 

*'  Monsieur  le  Baron,"  said  he,  "  when  a  man  is  as  vile  as 
I  am — for  you  think  me  very  vile,  don't  you? — he  would  be 
the  meanest  galley-slave  if  he  did  not  get  the  full  benefit  of 
his  betrayed  honor.  You  are  for  war ;  it  will  be  hot  work  and 
no  quarter.  Come  here  no  more,  and  do  not  attempt  to  get 
past  me.  I  have  given  the  police  notice  of  my  position  with 
regard  to  you." 

And  taking  advantage  of  Hulot's  amazement,  he  pushed 
him  out  and  shut  the  door. 

"  What  a  low  scoundrel !  "  said  Hulot  to  himself,  as  he  went 
upstairs  to  Lisbeth.  "  I  understand  her  letter  now.  Valerie 
and  I  will  go  away  from  Paris.  Valerie  is  wholly  mine  for 
the  remainder  of  my  days;  she  will  close  my  eyes." 

Lisbeth  was  out.  Madame  Olivier  told  the  baron  that  she 
was  gone  to  his  wife's  house,  thinking  that  she  would  find 
him  there. 

"  Poor  thing !  I  should  never  have  expected  her  to  be  so 
sharp  as  she  was  this  morning,"  thought  Hulot,  recalling  Lis- 
beth's  behavior  as  he  made  his  way  from  the  Rue  Vanneau  to 
the  Rue  Plumet. 

As  he  turned  the  corner  of  the  Rue  Vanneau  and  the  Rue 
de  Babylone,  he  looked  back  at  the  Eden  whence  Hymen 
had  expelled  him  with  the  sword  of  the  law.  Valerie,  at 
her  window,  was  watching  his  departure  \  as  he  glanced  up, 
she  waved  her  handkerchief,  but  the  rascally  Marneffe  hit 
his  wife's  cap  and  dragged  her  violently  away  from  the 
window.     A  tear  rose  to  the  great  official's  eye. 

"Oh!  to  be  so  well  loved!  To  see  a  woman  so  ill-used, 
and  to  be  so  nearly  seventy  years  old  !  "  thought  he. 

Lisbeth  had  come  to  give  the  family  the  good  news.  Ade- 
line and  Hortense  had  already  heard  that  the  baron,  not 


COUSIN  BETTY.  293 

choosing  to  compromise  himself  in  the  eyes  of  the  whole  office 
by  appointing  Marneffe  to  the  first-class,  would  be  turned 
from  the  door  by  the  Hulot-hating  husband.  Adeline,  very 
happy,  had  ordered  a  dinner  that  her  Hector  was  to  like 
better  than  any  of  Valerie's ;  and  Lisbeth,  in  her  devotion, 
was  helping  Mariette  to  achieve  this  difficult  result.  Cousin 
Betty  was  the  idol  of  the  hour.  Mother  and  daughter  kissed 
her  hands,  and  had  told  her  with  touching  delight  that  the 
marshal  consented  to  have  her  as  his  housekeeper. 

"  And  from  that,  my  dear,  there  is  but  one  step  to  becom- 
ing his  wife  !  "  said  Adeline. 

"  In  fact,  he  did  not  say  no  when  Victorin  mentioned  it," 
added  the  countess. 

The  baron  was  welcomed  home  with  such  charming  proofs 
of  affection,  so  pathetically  overflowing  with  love,  that  he  was 
fain  to  conceal  his  troubles. 

Marshal  Hulot  came  to  dinner.  After  dinner.  Hector  did 
not  go  out.  Victorin  and  his  wife  joined  them,  and  they 
made  up  a  rubber. 

"It  is  a  long  time.  Hector,"  said  the  marshal  gravely, 
"since  you  gave  us  the  treat  of  such  an  evening." 

This  speech  from  the  old  soldier,  who  spoiled  his  brother 
though  he  thus  implicitly  blamed  him,  made  a  deep  impres- 
sion. It  showed  how  wide  and  deep  were  the  wounds  in  a 
heart  where  all  the  woes  he  had  divined  had  found  an  echo. 
At  eight  o'clock  the  baron  insisted  on  seeing  Lisbeth  home, 
promising  to  return. 

"  Do  you  know,  Lisbeth,  he  ill-treats  her  !  "  said  he  in  the 
street.     "  Oh,  I  nevef  loved  her  so  well  !  " 

"  I  never  imagined  that  Valerie  loved  you  so  well,"  replied 
Lisbeth.  "  She  is  frivolous  and  a  coquette,  she  loves  to  have 
attentions  paid  her,  and  to  have  the  comedy  of  love-making 
performed  for  her,  as  she  says;  but  you  are  her  only  real 
attachment." 

"  What  message  did  she  send  me?  " 


294  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

"Why,  this,"  said  Lisbeth.  "She  has,  as  you  know, 
been  on  intimate  terms  with  Crevel.  You  must  owe  her  no 
grudge,  for  that,  in  fact,  is  what  has  raised  her  above  utter 
poverty  for  the  rest  of  her  life ;  but  she  detests  him,  and 
matters  are  nearly  at  an  end.  Well,  she  has  kept  the  key  of 
some  rooms " 

**  Rue  du  Dauphin  !  "  cried  the  thrice-blest  baron.  "  If  it 
were  for  that  alone,  I  would  overlook  Crevel.  I  have  been 
there;  I  know." 

"Here,  then,  is  the  key,"  said  Lisbeth.  "Have  another 
made  from  it  in  the  course  of  to-morrow — two  if  you  can." 

"  And  then,"  said  Hulot  eagerly. 

"Well,  I  will  dine  at  your  house  again  to-morrow;  you 
must  give  me  back  Valerie's  key,  for  old  Crevel  might  ask  her 
to  return  it  him,  and  you  can  meet  her  there  the  day  after; 
you  can  then  decide  what  your  facts  are  to  be.  You  will 
be  quite  safe,  as  there  are  two  ways  out.  If  by  chance  Crevel, 
who  is  '  Regency '  in  his  habits,  as  he  is  fond  of  saying, 
should  come  in  by  the  side-street,  you  would  go  out  through 
the  store,  or  vice  versa.  You  owe  all  this  to  me,  you  old 
villain  ;  now  what  will  you  do  for  me  ? 

"Whatever  you  want." 

"  Then  you  will  not  oppose  my  marrying  your  brother !  " 

'^You.f  the  Marechale  Hulot!  You  Comtesse  de  Forz- 
heim?"  cried  Hector,  startled. 

"  Well,  Adeline  is  a  baroness !  "  retorted  Betty  in  a  vicious 
and  formidable  tone.  "Listen  to  me,  you  old  libertine. 
You  know  how  matters  stand ;  your  family  may  find  itself 
starving  in  the  gutter " 

"That  is  what  I  dread,"  said  Hulot  in  dismay. 

"  And  if  your  brother  were  to  die,  who  would  maintain 
your  wife  and  daughter  ?  The  widow  of  a  marshal  gets  at 
least  six  thousand  francs  pension,  doesn't  she?  Well,  then, 
I  wish  to  marry  to  secure  bread  for  your  wife  and  daughter — 
old  dotard  !  " 


COUSIN  BETTY.  295 

"  I  had  not  seen  it  in  that  light !  "  said  the  baron.  "  I  will 
talk  to  my  brother — for  we  are  sure  of  you.  Tell  my  angel 
that  my  life  is  hers." 

And  the  baron,  having  seen  Lisbeth  go  into  the  house  in 
the  Rue  du  Vanneau,  went  back  to  his  whist  and  stayed  at 
home.  The  baroness  was  at  the  height  of  happiness,  her  hus- 
band seemed  to  be  returning  to  domestic  habits ;  for  about  a 
fortnight  he  went  to  his  office  at  nine  every  morning,  he  canie 
in  to  dinner  at  six,  and  spent  the  evening  with  his  family. 
He  twice  took  Adeline  and  Hortense  to  the  play.  The  mother 
and  daughter  paid  for  three  thanksgiving  masses,  and  prayed 
God  to  suffer  them  to  keep  the  husband  and  father  He  had 
restored  to  them. 

One  evening  Victorin  Hulot,  seeing  his  father  retire  for  the 
night,  said  to  his  mother — 

"  Well,  we  are  at  any  rate  so  far  happy  that  my  father  has 
come  back  to  us.  My  wife  and  I  shall  never  regret  our 
capital  if  only  this  lasts " 

"Your  father  is  nearly  seventy,"  said  the  baroness.  "  He 
still  thinks  of  Madame  Marneffe,  that  I  can  see ;  but  he  will 
forget  her  in  time.  A  passion  for  women  is  not  like  gambling, 
or  speculation,  or  avarice  ;  there  is  an  end  to  it." 

But  Adeline,  still  beautiful  in  spite  of  her  fifty  years  and 
her  sorrows,  in  this  was  mistaken.  Profligates,  men  whom 
Nature  has  gifted  with  the  precious  power  of  loving  beyond 
the  limits  ordinarily  set  to  love,  are  rarely  as  old  as  their  age. 

During  this  relapse  into  virtue  Baron  Hulot  had  been  three 
times  to  the  Rue  du  Dauphin,  and  had  certainly  not  been 
the  man  of  seventy.  His  rekindled  passion  made  him  young 
again,  and  he  would  have  sacrificed  his  honor  to  Valerie,  his 
family,  his  all,  without  a  regret.  But  Valerie,  now  completely 
altered,  never  mentioned  money,  not  even  the  twelve  hundred 
francs  a  year  to  be  settled  on  their  son  ;  on  the  contrary,  she 
offered  him  money,  she  seemingly  loved  Hulot  as  a  woman  of 


296  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

six-and-thirty  loves  a  handsome  law-student — a  poor,  poetical, 
ardent  boy.  And  the  hapless  wife  fancied  she  had  recon- 
quered her  dear  Hector ! 

The  fourth  meeting  between  this  couple  had  been  agreed 
upon  at  the  end  of  the  third,  exactly  as  formerly  in  Italian 
theatres  the  play  was  announced  for  the  next  night.  The  hour 
fixed  was  nine  in  the  morning.  On  the  day  when  the  happi- 
ness was  due  for  which  the  amorous  old  man  had  resigned 
himself  to  domestic  rules,  at  about  eight  in  the  morning, 
Reine  came  and  asked  to  see  the  baron.  Hulot,  fearing  some 
catastrophe,  went  out  to  speak  with  Reine,  who  would  not 
come  into  the  anteroom.  The  faithful  waiting-maid  gave  him 
the  following  note : 

"  Dear  Old  Man  : — Do  not  go  to  the  Rue  du  Dauphin. 
Our  incubus  is  ill,  and  I  must  nurse  him ;  but  be  there  this 
evening  at  nine.  Crevel  is  at  Corbeil  with  Monsieur  Lebas ; 
so  I  am  sure  he  will  bring  no  princess  to  his  little  palace.  I 
have  made  arrangements  here  to  be  free  for  the  night  and  get 
back  before  Marneffe  is  awake.  Answer  me  as  to  all  this,  for 
perhaps  your  long  elegy  of  a  wife  no  longer  allows  you  your 
liberty  as  she  did.  I  am  told  she  is  still  so  handsome  that  you 
might  play  me  false,  you  are  such  a  gay  dog  !  Burn  this  note ; 
I  am  suspicious  of  every  one." 

Hulot  wrote  this  scrap  in  reply : 

**  My  Love  : — ^As  I  have  told  you,  my  wife  has  not  for  five- 
and-twenty  years  interfered  with  my  pleasures.  For  you  I 
would  give  up  a  hundred  Adelines.  I  will  be  in  the  Crevel 
sanctum  at  nine  this  evening  awaiting  my  divinity.  Oh  that 
your  clerk  might  soon  die  !  We  should  part  no  more.  And 
this  is  the  dearest  wish  of 

**You.':  Hector." 


COUSIN  BETTY.  297 

That  evening  the  baron  told  his  wife  that  he  had  business 
with  the  Minister  at  Saint-Cloud,  that  he  would  come  home 
at  about  four  or  five  in  the  morning;  and  he  went  to  the 
Rue  du  Dauphin.     It  was  toward  the  end  of  the  month  of 

June. 

Few  men  have  in  the  course  of  their  life  known  really  the 
dreadful  sensation  of  going  to  their  death ;  those  who  have 
returned  from  the  foot  of  the  scaffold  may  be  easily  counted. 
But  some  have  had  a  vivid  experience  of  it  in  dreams ;  they 
have  gone  through  it  all,  to  the  sensation  of  the  knife  at  their 
throat,  at  the  moment  when  waking  and  daylight  come  to  re- 
lease them.  Well,  the  sensation  to  which  the  councilor  of 
State  was  a  victim  at  five  in  the  morning  in  Crevel's  hand- 
some and  elegant  bed,  was  immeasurably  worse  than  that  of 
feeling  one's  self  bound  to  the  fatal  block  in  the  presence  of 
ten  thousand  spectators  looking  at  you  with  twenty  thousand 
sparks  of  fire. 

Valerie  was  asleep  in  a  graceful  attitude.  She  was  lovely, 
as  a  woman  is  who  is  lovely  enough  to  look  so  even  in  sleep. 
It  is  art  invading  nature ;  in  short,  a  living  picture. 

In  his  horizontal  position  the  baron's  eyes  were  but  three 
feet  above  the  floor.  His  gaze,  wandering  idly,  as  that  of  a 
man  who  is  just  awake  and  collecting  his  ideas,  fell  on  a  door 
painted  with  flowers  by  Jan,  an  artist  disdainful  of  fame. 
The  baron  did  not  indeed  see  twenty  thousand  flaming  eyes, 
like  the  man  condemned  to  death  ;  he  saw  but  one,  of  which 
the  shaft  was  really  more  piercing  than  the  thousands  on  the 
Public  Square. 

Now  this  sensation,  far  rarer  in  the  midst  of  enjoyment  even 
than  that  of  a  man  condemned  to  death,  was  one  for  which 
many  a  splenetic  Englishman  would  certainly  pay  a  high  price. 
The  baron  lay  there,  horizontal  still,  and  literally  bathed  in 
cold  sweat.  He  tried  to  doubt  the  fact ;  but  this  murderous 
eye  had  a  voice.  A  sound  of  whispering  was  heard  through 
the  doorway. 


298  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

•*So  long  as  it  is  nobody  but  Crevel  playing  a  trick  on 
me  !  "  said  the  baron  to  himself,  only  too  certain  of  an  in- 
truder in  the  temple. 

The  door  was  opened.  The  majesty  of  the  French  law, 
which  in  all  documents  follows  next  to  the  King,  became 
visible  in  the  person  of  a  worthy  little  police-officer  supported 
by  a  tall  justice  of  the  peace,  both  shown  in  by  Monsieur 
Marneffe.  The  police  functionary,  rooted  in  shoes  of  which 
the  straps  were  tied  together  with  flapping  bows,  ended  at  lop 
in  a  yellow  skull  amost  bare  of  hair,  and  a  face  betraying  him 
as  a  wide-awake,  cheerful,  and  cunning  dog,  from  whom  Paris 
life  had  no  secrets.  His  eyes,  though  garnished  with  spec- 
tacles, pierced  the  glasses  with  a  keen  mocking  glance.  The 
justice  of  the  peace,  a  retired  attorney,  and  an  old  admirer  of 
the  fair  sex,  envied  the  delinquent. 

"Pray  excuse  the  strong  measures  required  by  our  office, 
Monsieur  le  Baron  !  "  said  the  constable  ;  *'  we  are  acting  for 
the  plaintiff.  The  justice  of  the  peace  is  here  to  authorize  the 
visitation  of  the  premises.  I  know  whom  you  are,  and  the 
lady  who  is  accused." 

Valerie  opened  her  astonished  eyes,  gave  such  a  shriek  as 
actresses  use  to  depict  madness  on  the  stage,  writhed  in  con- 
vulsions on  the  bed,  like  a  witch  of  the  Middle  Ages  in  her 
sulphur-colored  frock  on  a  bed  of  faggots. 

**  Death,  and  I  am  ready !  my  dear  Hector — but  a  police 
court?     Oh!  never." 

With  one  bound  she  passed  the  three  spectators  and  crouched 
behind  the  little  writing-table,  hiding  her  face  in  her  hands. 

*'  Ruin  !     Death  !  "  she  cried. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  Marneffe  to  Hulot,  **  if  Madame  Marneffe 
goes  mad,  you  will  be  worse  than  a  profligate ;  you  will  be  a 
murderer." 

What  can  a  man  do,  what  can  he  say,  when  he  is  discovered 
in  a  bed  which  is  not  his,  even  on  the  score  of  hiring,  with  a 
woman  who  is  no  more  his  than  the  bed  is  ?    Well,  this : 


COUSIN  BETTY.  299 

"Monsieur  the  justice  of  the  peace,  Monsieur  the  police 
officer,"  said  the  baron  with  some  dignity,  "be  good  enough 
to  take  proper  care  of  that  unhappy  woman,  whose  reason 
seems  to  me  to  be  in  danger.  You  can  harangue  me  afterward. 
The  doors  are  locked,  no  doubt ;  you  need  not  fear  that  she 
will  get  away,  or  I  either,  seeing  the  costume  we  wear." 

The  two  functionaries  bowed  to  the  magnate's  injunctions. 

"You,  come  here,  miserable  cur!"  said  Hulot  in  a  low 
voice  to  Marneffe,  taking  him  by  the  arm  and  drawing  him 
closer.  "It  is  not  I,  but  you,  who  will  be  the  murderer! 
You  want  to  be  head-clerk  or  your  room  and  officer  of  the 
Legion  of  Honor?  " 

"That  in  the  first  place,  chief!  "  replied  Marneffe,  with  a 
bow. 

"  You  shall  be  all  that,  only  soothe  your  wife  and  dismiss 
these  fellows," 

"Nay,  nay,"  said  Marneffe  knowingly.  "These  gentle- 
men must  draw  up  their  report  as  eye-witnesses  to  the  fact  in 
flagrante  delicto;  without  that,  the  chief  evidence  in  my  case, 
where  should  I  be  ?  The  higher  official  ranks  are  chokeful  of 
rascalities.  You  have  done  me  out  of  my  wife,  and  you  have 
not  promoted  me,  Monsieur  le  Baron ;  I  give  you  only  two 
days  to  get  out  of  the  scrape.     Here  are  some  letters " 

"Some  letters  !  "  interrupted  Hulot. 

"Yes;  letters  which  prove  that  you  are  the  father  of  the 
child  my  wife  expects  to  give  birth  to.  You  understand  ? 
And  you  ought  to  settle  on  my  son  a  sum  equal  to  Ivhat 
he  will  lose  through  this  bastard.  But  I  will  be  reasonable  ; 
this  does  not  distress  me ;  I  have  no  mania  for  paternity  myself. 
A  hundred  louis  a  year  will  satisfy  me.  By  to-morrow  I  must 
be  Monsieur  Coquet's  successor  and  see  my  name  on  the  list 
for  promotion  in  the  Legion  of  Honor  at  the  July  f&tes,  or 
else — the  documentary  evidence  and  my  charge  against  you 
will  be  laid  before  the  bench.  I  am  not  so  hard  to  deal  with 
after  all,  you  see." 


800  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

"  Bless  me,  and  such  a  pretty  woman  !  "  said  the  justice  of 
the  peace  to  the  police  constable.  "  What  a  loss  to  the  world 
if  she  should  go  mad  !  " 

"She  is  not  mad,"  said  the  constable  sententiously.  The 
police  is  always  the  incarnation  of  skepticism.  "  Monsieur  le 
Baron  Hulot  has  been  caught  by  a  trick,"  he  added,  loud 
enough  for  Valerie  to  hear  him. 

Valerie  shot  a  flash  from  her  eye  which  would  have  killed 
him  on  the  spot  if  looks  could  effect  the  vengeance  they 
express.  The  police-officer  smiled ;  he  had  laid  a  snare, 
and  the  woman  had  fallen  into  it.  Marneffe  desired  his  wife 
to  go  into  the  other  room  and  clothe  herself  decently,  for  he 
and  the  baron  had  come  to  an  agreement  on  all  points,  and 
Hulot  fetched  his  dressing-gown  and  came  out  again. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  he  to  the  two  officials,  "I  need  not 
impress  on  you  to  be  secret." 

The  functionaries  bowed. 

The  police-officer  rapped  twice  on  the  door ;  his  clerk  came 
in,  sat  down  at  the  "  bonheur-du-jour^''^  (writing-table),  and 
wrote  what  the  constable  dictated  to  him  in  an  undertone. 
Valerie  still  wept  vehemently.  When  she  was  dressed,  Hulot 
went  into  the  other  room  and  put  on  his  clothes.  Meanwhile 
the  report  was  written. 

Marneffe  then  wanted  to  take  his  wife  home ;  but  Hulot, 
believing  that  he  saw  her  for  the  last  time,  begged  the  favor 
of  being  allowed  to  speak  with  her. 

**  Monsieur,  your  wife  has  cost  me  dear  enough  for  me  to 
be  allowed  to  say  good-by  to  her — in  the  presence  of  you  all, 
of  course." 

Valerie  went  up  to  Hulot,  and  he  whispered  in  her  ear — 

"There  is  nothing  left  for  us  but  to  fly,  but  how  can  we 
correspond?     We  have  been  betrayed " 

"Through  Reine,"  she  answered.  "  But,  my  dear  friend, 
after  this  scandal  we  can  never  meet  again.  I  am  disgraced. 
*  Lit.:  Good  hour  of  the  day. 


COUSIN  BETTY.  301 

Beside,  you  will  hear  dreadful  things  about  me — you  will  be- 
lieve them " 

The  baron  made  a  gesture  of  denial. 

"  You  will  believe  them,  and  I  can  thank  God  for  that,  for 
then  perhaps  you  will  not  regret  me." 

"He  will  «<?/ die  a  second-class  clerk!  "  said  Marneffe  to 
Hulot,  as  he  led  his  wife  away,  saying  roughly,  "Come, 
madame ;  if  I  am  foolish  to  you,  I  do  not  choose  to  be  a  fool 
to  others." 

Valerie  left  the  house,  Crevel's  Eden,  with  a  last  glance  at 
the  baron,  so  cunning  that  he  thought  she  adored  him.  The 
justice  of  the  peace  gave  Madame  Marneife  his  arm  to  the 
hackney-coach  with  a  flourish  of  gallantry.  The  baron,  who 
was  required  to  witness  the  report,  remained  quite  bewildered, 
alone  with  the  police-officer.  When  the  baron  had  signed, 
the  officer  looked  at  him  keenly  over  his  glasses. 

"  You  are  very  sweet  on  the  little  lady.  Monsieur  le  Baron  ?" 

**To  my  sorrow,  as  you  see." 

"Suppose  that  she  does  not  care  for  you?"  the  man  went 
on,  "  that  she  is  deceiving  you  ?  " 

"  I  have  long  known  that,  monsieur — here,  in  this  very 
spot.  Monsieur  Crevel  and  I  told  each  other " 

"  Oh  !  Then  you  knew  that  you  were  in  Monsieur  le 
Maire's  private  snuggery  ?  " 

"Perfectly." 

The  constable  lightly  touched  his  hat  with  a  respectful 
gesture. 

"  You  are  very  much  in  love,"  said  he.  "I  say  no  more. 
I  respect  an  inveterate  passion,  as  a  doctor  respects  an  invet- 
erate complaint.  I  saw  Monsieur  de  Nucingen,  the  banker, 
attacked  in  the  same  way " 

"  He  is  a  friend  of  mine,"  said  the  baron.  "  Many  a  time 
have  I  supped  with  his  handsome  Esther.  ('  Harlot's  Pro- 
gress.')    She  was  worth  the  two  million  francs  she  cost  him." 

"And  more,"  said  the  officer.     "That  caprice  of  the  old 


302  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

baron's  cost  four  persons  their  lives.  Oh  !  such  passions  as 
these  are  like  the  cholera !  " 

"What  had  you  to  say  to  me?"  asked  the  baron,  who 
took  this  indirect  warning  very  ill. 

**  Oh  !  why  should  I  deprive  you  of  your  illusions?  "  replied 
the  officer.     *'  Men  rarely  have  any  left  at  your  age  !  " 

"  Rid  me  of  them  !  "  cried  the  councilor^" 

*•  You  will  curse  the  physician  later,"  replied  the  officer, 
smiling. 

"I  beg  of  you,  monsieur." 

"  Well,  then,  that  woman  was  in  collusion  with  her  hus- 
band." 

<^0h! " 

**  Yes,  sir,  and  so  it  is  in  two  cases  out  of  every  ten.  Oh  ! 
we  know  it  well." 

"  What  proof  have  you  of  such  a  conspiracy?" 

"In  the  first  place,  the  husband  !  "  said  the  other,  with  the 
calm  acumen  of  a  surgeon  practiced  in  unbinding  wounds : 
"  Mean  speculation  is  stamped  in  every  line  of  that  villainous 
face.  But  you,  no  doubt,  set  great  store  by  a  certain  letter 
written  by  that  woman  with  regard  to  the  child?" 

"So  much  so,  that  I  always  have  it  about  me,"  replied 
Hulot,  feeling  in  his  breast-pocket  for  the  little  pocket-book 
which  he  always  kept  there. 

"Leave  your  pocket-book  where  it  is,"  said  the  man,  as 
crushing  as  a  thunder-clap.  "  Here  is  the  letter — I  now  know 
all  I  want  to  know.  Madame  Marneffe,  of  course,  was  aware 
of  what  that  pocket-book  contained  ? ' ' 

"  She  alone  in  the  world." 

"  So  I  supposed.  Now  for  the  proof  you  asked  for  of  her 
collusion  with  her  husband." 

"  Let  us  hear  !  "  said  the  baron,  still  incredulous. 

"  When  we  came  in  here,  Monsieur  le  Baron,  that  wretched 
creature  Marneffe  led  the  way,  and  he  took  up  this  letter,  which 
his  wife,  no  doubt,  had  placed  on  this  writing-table,"  and  he 


COUSIN  BETTY.  303 

pointed  to  the  bonheur-du-jour.  "  That,  evidently,  was  the 
spot  agreed  upon  by  the  couple,  in  case  she  should  succeed  in 
stealing  the  letter  while  you  were  asleep;  for  this  letter,  as 
written  to  you  by  the  lady,  is,  combined  with  those  you  wrote 
to  her,  decisive  evidence  in  a  police-court." 

He  showed  Hulot  the  note  that  Reine  had  delivered  to  him 
in  his  private  room  at  the  office. 

**  It  is  one  of  the  documents  in  the  case,"  said  the  police- 
agent  ;  **  return  it  to  me,  monsieur." 

"Well,  monsieur,"  replied  Hulot  with  bitter  expression, 
"  that  woman  is  profligacy  itself  in  fixed  ratios.  I  am  certain 
at  this  moment  that  she  has  three  lovers." 

"That  is  perfectly  evident,"  said  the  officer.  "Oh,  all 
prostitutes  are  not  on  the  streets  !  When  a  woman  follows  that 
trade  in  a  carriage  and  a  drawing-room,  and  her  own  house,  it  is 
not  a  case  for  francs  and  centimes,  Monsieur  le  Baron.  Made- 
moiselle Esther,  of  whom  you  spoke,  and  who  poisoned  her- 
self, made  away  with  millions.  If  you  will  take  my  advice, 
you  will  get  out  of  it,  monsieur.  This  last  little  game  will 
have  cost  you  dear.  That  scoundrel  of  a  husband  has  the  law 
on  his  side.  And  indeed,  but  for  me,  that  little  woman  would 
have  caught  you  again  !  " 

"  Thank  you,  monsieur,"  said  the  baron,  trying  to  maintain 
his  dignity. 

"  Now  we  will  lock  up ;  the  farce  is  played  out,  and  you 
can  send  your  key  to  monsieur  the  mayor." 

Hulot  went  home  in  a  state  of  dejection  bordering  on 
helplessness,  and  sunk  in  the  gloomiest  thoughts.  He  woke 
his  noble  and  saintly  wife,  and  poured  into  her  heart  the 
history  of  the  three  past  years,  sobbing  like  a  child  deprived 
of  a  toy.  This  confession  from  an  old  man  young  in  feeling, 
this  frightful  and  heart-rending  narrative,  while  it  filled  Ade- 
line with  pity,  also  gave  her  the  greatest  joy;  she  thanked 
heaven  for  this  last  catastrophe,  for  in  fancy  she  saw  the  hus- 
band settled  at  last  in  the  bosom  of  his  family. 


304  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

"Lisbeth  was  right,"  said  Madame  Hulot  gently  and  with- 
out any  useless  recrimination,  "she  told  us  how  it  would  be." 

"  Yes.  If  only  I  had  listened  to  her,  instead  of  flying  into 
a  rage,  that  day  when  I  wanted  poor  Hortense  to  go  home 

rather  than  compromise  the  reputation  of  that Oh  !  my 

dear  Adeline,  we  must  save  Wenceslas.  He  is  up  to  his  chin 
in  that  mire  !  " 

"  My  poor  old  man,  the  respectable  middle-classes  have 
turned  out  no  better  than  the  actresses,"  said  Adeline,  with 
a  smile. 

The  baroness  was  alarmed  at  the  change  in  her  Hector ; 
when  she  saw  him  so  unhappy,  ailing,  crushed  under  his  weight 
of  woes,  she  was  all  heart,  all  pity,  all  love ;  she  would  have 
shed  her  blood  to  make  Hulot  happy. 

"Stay  with  us,  my  dear  Hector.  Tell  me  what  is  it  that 
such  women  do  to  attract  you  so  powerfully.  I  too  will  try. 
Why  have  you  not  taught  me  to  be  what  you  want  ?  Am  I  de- 
ficient in  intelligence  ?  Men  still  think  me  handsome  enough 
to  court  my  favor." 

Many  a  married  woman,  attached  to  her  duty  and  to  her 
husband,  may  here  pause  to  ask  herself  why  strong  and  affec- 
tionate men,  so  tender-hearted  to  the  Madame  Marneffes,  do 
not  take  their  wives  for  the  object  of  their  fancies  and  passions, 
especially  wives  like  the  Baronne  Adeline  Hulot. 

This  is,  indeed,  one  of  the  most  recondite  mysteries  of 
human  nature.  Love,  which  is  the  debauch  of  reason,  the 
strong  and  austere  joy  of  a  lofty  soul ;  and  pleasure,  the  vulgar 
counterfeit  sold  in  the  market-place,  are  two  aspects  of  the 
same  thing.  The  woman  who  can  satisfy  both  these  devour- 
ing appetites  is  as  rare  in  her  sex  as  a  great  general,  a  great 
writer,  a  great  artist,  a  great  inventor  in  a  nation.  A  man  of 
superior  intellect  or  an  idiot — a  Hulot  or  a  Crevel — equally 
crave  for  the  ideal  and  for  enjoyment ;  all  alike  go  in  search 
of  the  mysterious  compound,  that  scarce  hermaphrodite,  so 


COUSIN  BETTY.  305 

rare  that  at   last   it   is  usually  found  to  be  a  work  in  two 
volumes.     This  craving  is  a  depraved  impulse  due  to  society. 

Marriage,  no  doubt,  must  be  accepted  as  a  tie;  it  is  life, 
with  its  duties  and  its  stern  sacrifices  on  both  parts  equally. 
Libertines,  who  seek  for  hidden  treasure,  are  as  guilty  as  other 
evil-doers  who  are  more  hardly  dealt  with  than  they.  These 
reflections  are  not  a  mere  veneer  of  moralizing ;  they  show 
the  reason  of  many  unexplained  misfortunes.  But,  indeed, 
this  drama  points  its  own  moral — or  morals,  for  they  are  of 
many  kinds. 

The  baron  presently  went  to  call  on  the  Marshal  Prince  de 
Wissembourg,  whose  powerful  patronage  was  now  his  only 
chance.  Having  dwelt  under  his  protection  for  five-and- 
thirty  years,  he  was  a  visitor  at  all  hours,  and  would  be  ad- 
mitted to  his  rooms  as  soon  as  he  was  up. 

"Ah!  How  are  you,  my  dear  Hector?"  said  the  great 
and  worthy  leader.  '*  What  is  the  matter  ?  You  look  anxious. 
And  yet  the  session  is  ended.  One  more  over !  I  speak  of 
that  now  as  I  used  to  speak  of  a  campaign.  And  indeed  I 
believe  the  newspapers  nowadays  speak  of  the  sessions  as 
parliamentary  campaigns." 

"  We  have  been  in  difficulties,  I  must  confess,  marshal ; 
but  the  times  are  hard  !  "  said  Hulot.  *'  It  cannot  be  helped ; 
the  world  was  made  so.  Every  phase  has  its  own  drawbacks. 
The  worst  misfortune  in  the  year  1841  is  that  neither  the  King 
nor  the  ministers  are  free  to  act  as  Napoleon  was." 

The  marshal  gave  Hulot  one  of  those  eagle  flashes  which  in. 
its  pride,  clearness,  and  perspicacity  showed  that,  in  spite  of 
years,  that  lofty  soul  was  still  upright  and  vigorous. 

"You  want  me  to  do  something  for  you?"  said  he,  in  a 
hearty  tone. 

"  I  find  myself  under  the  necessity  of  applying  to  you  for 
the  promotion  of  one  of  my  second  clerks  to  the  head  of  a 
room — as  a  personal  favor  to  myself — and  his  advancement  to 
be  officer  of  the  Legion  of  Honor." 
20 


306  THE  POOR   PARENTS. 

"  What  is  his  name  ?  "  said  the  marshal,  with  a  look  like  a 
lightning  flash. 

"Marneffe." 

**  He  has  a  pretty  wife ;  I  saw  her  on  the  occasion  of  your 
daughter's  marriage.  If  Roger — but  Roger  is  away  !  Hector, 
my  boy,  this  is    concerned  with  your  pleasures.     What,  you 

still  indulge ?     Well,  you  are  a  credit  to  the  Old  Guard. 

That  is  what  comes  of  having  been  in  the  commissariat ;  you 
have  reserves  !  But  have  nothing  to  do  with  this  little  job, 
my  dear  boy;  it  is  too  strong  of  the  petticoat  to  be  good 
business." 

"  No,  marshal ;  it  is  a  bad  business,  for  the  police  courts 
have  a  finger  in  it.     Would  you  like  to  see  me  there?  " 

"  The  devil !  "  said  the  prince  uneasily.     *'  Go  on  !  " 

"Well,  lam  in  the  predicament  of  a  trapped  fox.  You 
have  always  been  so  kind  to  me,  that  you  will,  I  am  sure,  con- 
descend to  help  me  out  of  the  shameful  position  in  which  I 
am  placed." 

Hulot  related  his  misadventures,  as  wittily  and  as  lightly  as 
he  could. 

"  And  you,  prince,  will  you  allow  my  brother  to  die  of  grief, 
a  man  you  love  so  well ;  or  leave  one  of  your  staff  in  the  War 
Office,  a  councilor  of  State,  to  live  in  disgrace.  This  Mar- 
neffe  is  a  wretched  creature;  he  can  be  shelved  in  two  or 
three  years." 

"How  you  talk  of  two  or  three  years,  my  dear  fellow," 
said  the  marshal. 

**  But,  prince,  the  Imperial  Guard  is  immortal." 

"lam  the  last  of  the  first  batch  of  marshals,"  said  the 
prince.  "  Listen,  Hector.  You  do  not  know  the  extent 
of  my  attachment  to  you ;  you  shall  see.  On  the  day  when  I 
retire  from  office,  we  will  go  together.  But  you  are  not  a 
deputy,  my  friend.  Many  men  want  your  place ;  but  for  me, 
you  would  be  out  of  it  by  this  time.  Yes,  I  have  fought 
many  a  pitched  battle  to  keep  you  in  it.     Well,  I  grant  you 


COUSIN  BETTY.  307 

your  two  requests ;  it  would  be  too  bad  to  see  you  riding  the 
bar  at  your  age  and  in  the  position  you  hold.  But  you  stretch 
your  credit  a  little  too  far.  If  this  appointment  gives  rise  to 
discussion,  we  shall  not  be  held  blameless.  I  can  laugh  at 
such  things ;  but  you  will  find  it  a  thorn  under  your  foot. 
And  the  next  session  will  see  your  dismissal.  Your  place  is 
held  out  as  a  bait  to  five  or  six  influential  men,  and  you  have 
been  enabled  to  keep  it  solely  by  the  force  of  my  arguments. 

"  I  tell  you,  on  the  day  when  you  retire,  there  will  be  five 
malcontents  to  one  happy  man;  whereas,  by  keeping  you 
hanging  on  by  a  thread  for  two  or  three  years,  we  shall  secure 
all  six  votes.  There  was  a  great  laugh  at  the  Council  meet- 
ing ;  the  veteran  of  the  Old  Guard,  as  they  say,  was  becoming 
desperately  wide  awake  in  parliamentary  tactics  !  I  am  frank 
with  you.  And  you  are  growing  gray;  you  are  a  happy 
man  to  be  able  to  get  into  such  difficulties  as  these  ?  How 
long  is  it  since  I — Lieutenant  Cottin — had  a  mistress?" 

He  rang  the  bell. 

"That  police  report  must  be  destroyed,  of  course,"  he 
added,  sotto  voce. 

*'  Monseigneur,  you  are  as  a  father  to  me  !  I  dared  not 
mention  my  anxiety  on  that  point." 

**  I  still  wish  I  had  Roger  here,"  cried  the  prince,  as  Mitou- 
flet,  his  groom  of  the  chambers,  came  in.  "I  was  just  going 
to  send  for  him  !  You  may  go,  Mitouflet.  Go  you,  my  dear 
old  fellow,  go  and  have  the  nomination  made  out;  I  will  sign 
it.  At  the  same  time,  that  low  schemer  will  not  enjoy  the 
fruit  of  his  crimes.  He  will  be  sharply  watched,  and  drummed 
out  of  the  regiment  for  the  smallest  fault.  You  are  saved  this 
time,  my  dear  Hector ;  take  care  for  the  future.  Do  not  ex- 
haust your  friends'  patience.  You  shall  have  the  nomination 
this  morning,  and  your  man  shall  get  his  promotion  in  the 
Legion  of  Honor.     How  old  are  you  now?  " 

"Within  three  months  of  seventy." 

"What  a  scapegrace  !  "  said  the  prince,  laughing.     "It  is 


308  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

you  who  deserve  promotion,  but,  by  thunder !  we  are  not 
under  Louis  XV.  !  " 

Such  is  the  sense  of  comradeship  that  binds  the  glorious  sur- 
vivors of  the  Napoleonic  phalanx  that  they  always  feel  as  if 
they  were  in  camp  together,  and  bound  to  stand  as  one 
through  thick  and  thin. 

"  One  more  favor  such  as  this,"  Hulot  reflected  as  he  crossed 
the  courtyard,  '*  and  I  am  done  for  !  " 

The  luckless  official  went  to  Baron  de  Nucingen,  to  whom 
he  now  owed  a  mere  trifle,  and  succeeded  in  borrowing  forty 
thousand  francs,  on  his  salary  pledged-  for  two  years  more ; 
the  banker  stipulated  that,  in  the  event  of  Hulot's  retirement 
on  his  pension,  the  whole  of  it  should  be  devoted  to  the  re- 
payment of  the  sum  borrowed  till  the  capital  and  interest  were 
all  cleared  off. 

This  new  bargain,  like  the  first,  was  made  in  the  name  of 
Vauvinet,  to  whom  the  baron  signed  notes  of  hand  to  the 
amount  of  twelve  thousand  francs. 

On  the  following  day,  the  fateful  police  report,  the  hus- 
band's charge,  the  letters — all  the  papers — were  destroyed. 
The  scandalous  promotion  of  Monsieur  Marneffe,  hardly 
heeded  in  the  midst  of  the  July  fetes,  was  not  commented  on 
in  any  newspaper. 

Lisbeth,  to  all  appearance  at  war  with  Madame  Marneffe, 
had  taken  up  her  abode  with  Marshal  Hulot.  Ten  days  after 
these  events,  the  banns  of  marriage  were  published  between 
the  old  maid  and  the  distinguished  old  officer,  to  whom,  to 
win  his  consent,  Adeline  had  related  the  financial  disaster  that 
had  befallen  her  Hector,  begging  him  never  to  mention  it  to 
the  baron,  who  was,  as  she  said,  much  saddened,  quite  de- 
pressed, and  crushed. 

"Alas  !  he  is  as  old  as  his  years,"  she  added. 

So  Lisbeth  had  triumphed.  She  was  achieving  the  object 
of  her  ambition,  she  would  see  the  success  of  her  scheme,  and 
her  hatred  gratified.     She  delighted  in  the  anticipated  joy  of 


COUSIN  BETTY.  309 

reigning  supreme  over  the  family  who  had  so  long  looked 
down  upon  her.  Yes,  she  would  patronize  her  patrons,  she 
would  be  the  rescuing  angel  who  would  dole  out  a  livelihood 
to  the  ruined  family;  she  addressed  herself  as  "Madame  la 
Comtesse"  and  "Madame  la  Marechale,"  curtsying  in  front 
of  a  glass.  Adeline  and  Hortense  should  end  their  days  in 
struggling  with  poverty,  while  she,  a  visitor  at  the  Tuileries, 
would  lord  it  in  the  fashionable  world. 

A  terrible  disaster  overthrew  the  old  maid  .rom  the  social 
heights  where  she  so  proudly  enthroned  herself. 

On  the  very  day  when  the  banns  were  first  published,  the 
baron  received  a  second  message  from  Africa.  Another  Alsa- 
tian arrived,  handed  him  a  letter,  after  assuring  himself  that 
he  spoke  to  Baron  Hulot,  and,  after  giving  the  baron  the  ad- 
dress of  his  lodgings,  bowed  himself  out,  leaving  the  great 
man  stricken  by  the  opening  lines  of  this  letter  : 

"  Dear  Nephew  : — You  will  receive  this  letter,  by  my  cal- 
culations, on  the  7th  of  August.  Supposing  it  takes  you  three 
days  to  send  us  the  help  we  need,  and  that  it  is  fourteen  days 
on  the  way  here,  that  brings  us  to  the  ist  of  September. 

"If  you  can  act  decisively  within  that  time,  you  will  have 
saved  the  honor  and  the  life  of  yours  sincerely,  Johann  Fischer. 

"  This  is  what  I  am  required  to  demand  by  the  clerk  you 
have  made  my  accomplice  ;  for  I  am  amenable,  it  would  seem, 
to  the  law,  at  the  police  court,  or  before  a  council  of  war. 
Of  course,  you  understand,  that  Johann  Fisher  will  never  be 
brought  to  the  bar  of  any  tribunal ;  he  will  go  of  his  own  act 
to  appear  at  that  of  God. 

"  Your  clerk  seems  to  me  a  bad  lot,  quite  capable  of  getting 
you  into  hot  water ;  but  he  is  as  clever  as  any  rogue.  He 
says  the  line  for  you  to  take  is  to  call  out  louder  than  any  one, 
and  to  send  out  an  inspector,  a  special  commissioner,  to  dis- 
cover who  is  really  guilty,  rake  up  abuses,  and  make  a  fuss. 


310  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

in  short ;  but  if  we  stir  up  the  struggle,  who  will  stand  be- 
tween us  and  the  law? 

"  If  your  commissioner  arrives  here  by  the  ist  of  September, 
and  you  have  given  him  your  orders,  sending  by  him  two 
hundred  thousand  francs  to  place  in  our  storehouses  the  sup- 
plies we  profess  to  have  secured  in  remote  country  places,  we 
shall  be  absolutely  solvent  and  regarded  as  blameless.  You 
can  trust  the  soldier  who  is  the  bearer  of  this  letter  with  a 
draft  in  my  name  on  a  house  in  Algiers.  He  is  a  trustworthy 
fellow,  a  relation  of  mine,  incapable  of  trying  to  find  out  what 
he  is  the  bearer  of.  I  have  taken  measures  to  guarantee  the 
fellow's  safe  return.  If  you  can  do  nothing,  I  am  ready  and 
willing  to  die  for  the  man  to  whom  we  owe  our  Adeline's 
happiness!  " 

The  anguish  and  raptures  of  passion  and  the  catastrophe 
which  had  checked  his  career  of  profligacy  had  prevented 
Baron  Hulot  ever  thinking  of  poor  Johann  Fischer,  though 
his  letter  had  given  warning  of  the  danger  now  becoming  so 
pressing.  The  baron  went  out  of  the  dining-room  in  such 
agitation  that  he  literally  dropped  on  to  a  sofa  in  the  drawing- 
room.  He  was  stunned,  sunk  in  the  dull  numbness  of  a  heavy 
fall.  He  stared  at  a  flower  on  the  carpet,  quite  unconscious 
that  he  still  held  in  his  hand  Johann's  fatal  letter. 

Adeline,  in  her  room,  heard  her  husband  throw  himself  on 
the  sofa,  like  a  lifeless  mass ;  the  noise  was  so  peculiar  that 
she  fancied  he  had  an  apoplectic  attack.  She  looked  through 
the  door  at  the  mirror,  in  such  dread  as  stops  the  breath  and 
hinders  motion,  and  she  saw  her  Hector  in  the  attitude  of  a 
man  crushed.  The  baroness  stole  in  on  tiptoe ;  Hector  heard 
nothing  ',  she  went  close  up  to  him,  saw  the  letter,  took  it, 
read  it,  trembling  in  every  limb.  She  went  through  one  of 
those  violent  nervous  shocks  that  leave  their  traces  for  ever 
on  the  sufferer.  Within  a  few  days  she  became  subject  to  a 
constant  trembling,   for  after  the  first  instant  the  need  for 


COUSIN  BETTY.  311 

action  gave  her  such  strength  as  can  only  be  drawn  from  the 
very  wellspring  of  the  vital  powers. 

"Hector,  come  into  my  room,"  said  she,  in  a  voice  that 
was  no  more  than  a  breath.  "  Do  not  let  your  daughter  see 
you  in  this  state  !     Come,  my  dear,  come  !  " 

"  Two  hundred  thousand  fran^?  Where  can  I  find  them  ? 
I  can  get  Claud  Vignon  sent  out  there  as  commissioner.  He 
is  a  clever,  intelligent  fellow.  That  is  a  matter  of  a  couple 
of  days.  But  two  hundred  thousand  francs  !  My  son  has  not 
so  much ;  his  house  is  loaded  with  mortgages  for  three  hun- 
dred thousand.  My  brother  has  saved  thirty  thousand  francs 
at  most.  Nucingen  would  simply  laugh  at  me  !  Vauvinet  ? 
— he  was  not  very  ready  to  lend  me  the  ten  thousand  francs  I 
wanted  to  make  up  the  sum  for  that  villain  MarnefiFe's  boy. 
No,  it  is  all  up  with  me ;  I  must  throw  myself  at  the  prince's 
feet,  confess  how  matters  stand,  hear  myself  told  that  I  am  a 
low  scoundrel,  and  take  his  broadside  so  as  to  go  decently 
to  the  bottom." 

"  But,  Hector,  this  is  not  merely  ruin,  it  is  disgrace,"  said 
Adeline.  "My  poor  uncle  will  kill  himself.  Only  kill  us — 
yourself  and  me ;  you  have  a  right  to  do  that,  but  do  not  be 
a  murderer !  Come,  take  courage ;  there  must  be  some  way 
out  of  it." 

"Not  one,"  said  the  despairing  Baron  Hulot.  "  No  one 
in  the  Government  could  find  two  hundred  thousand  francs, 
not  if  it  were  to  save  an  administration  !  Oh,  Napoleon  I 
where  art  thou  ? ' ' 

"  My  uncle  !  poor  man  !  Hector,  he  must  not  be  allowed 
to  kill  himself  in  disgrace." 

"  There  is  one  more  chance,"  said  he,  *'but  a  very  remote 
one.  Yes,  Crevel  is  at  daggers  drawn  with  his  daughter.  He 
has  plenty  of  money,  he  alone  could " 

"  Listen,  Hector,  it  will  be  better  for  your  wife  to  perish 
than  to  leave  our  uncle  to  perish — and  your  brother — the  honor 
of  the  family  !  "  cried  the  baroness,  struck  by  a  flash  of  light. 


312  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

"Yes,  I  can  save  you  all.  Good  God  !  what  a  degrading 
thought !     How  could  it  have  occurred  to  me  ?  " 

She  clasped  her  hands,  dropped  on  her  knees,  and  put  up  a 
prayer.  On  rising,  she  saw  such  a  crazy  expression  of  joy  on 
her  husband's  face,  that  the  diabolical  suggestion  returned, 
and  then  Adeline  sank  into  a  sort  of  apathetic  and  idiotic 
melancholy. 

"  Go,  my  dear,  at  once  to  the  War  Office,"  said  she,  rous- 
ing herself  from  this  torpor  ;  "try  to  send  out  a  commission  ; 
it  must  be  done.  Get  round  the  marshal.  And  on  your  return,  at 
five  o'clock,  you  will  find — perhaps — yes  !  you  shall  find  two 
hundred  thousand  francs.  Your  family,  your  honor  as  a  man, 
as  a  State  official,  a  councilor  of  State,  your  honesty — your  son 
— all  shall  be  saved  ;  but  your  Adeline  will  be  lost,  and  you 
will  see  her  no  more.  Hector,  my  dear,"  said  she,  kreeling 
before  him,  clasping  and  kissing  his  hand,  "  give  me  your 
blessing!     Say  farewell." 

It  was  so  heart-rending  that  Hulot  put  his  arms  round  his 
wife,  raised  her  and  kissed  her,  saying — 

"  I  do  not  understand." 

"If  you  did,"  said  she,  "I  should  die  of  shame,  or  I  should 
not  have  the  strength  to  carry  out  this  last  sacrifice." 

"  Breakfast  is  served,"  said  Mariette. 

Hortense  came  in  to  wish  her  parents  good-morning.  They 
had  to  go  to  breakfast  and  assume  a  false  face. 

"  Begin  without  me  ;  I  will  join  you,"  said  the  baroness. 

She  sat  down  to  her  desk  and  wrote  as  follows : 

"My  dear  Monsieur  Crevel: — I  have  to  ask  a  service 
of  you  ;  I  shall  expect  you  this  morning,  and  I  count  on  your 
gallantry,  which  is  well  known  to  me,  to  save  me  from  having 
too  long  to  wait  for  you.     Your  faithful  servant, 

"Adeline  Hulot." 

"  Louise,"  said  she  to  her  daughter's  maid,  who  waited  on 


COUSIN  BETTY.  313 

her,  "take  this  note  down  to  the  porter  and  desire  him  to 
carry  it  at  once  to  this  address  and  wait  for  an  answer." 

The  baron,  who  was  reading  the  news,  held  out  a  Republican 
paper  to  his  wife,  pointing  to  an  article,  and  saying — 

"Is  there  time?" 

This  was  the  paragraph,  one  of  the  terrible  "notes"  with 
which  the  papers  spice  their  political  bread  and  butter : 

"  A  correspondent  in  Algiers  writes  that  such  abuses  have 
been  discovered  in  the  commissariat  transactions  of  the  pro- 
vince of  Oran,  that  the  Law  is  making  inquiries.  The  pecula- 
tion is  self-evident,  and  the  guilty  persons  are  known.  If 
severe  measures  are  not  taken,  we  shall  continue  to  lose  more 
men  through  the  extortion  that  limits  their  rations  than  by  Arab 
steel  or  the  fierce  heat  of  the  climate.  We  await  further  in- 
formation before  enlarging  on  this  deplorable  business.  We 
need  no  longer  wonder  at  the  terror  caused  by  the  establish- 
ment of  the  Press  in  Africa,  as  was  contemplated  by  the 
Charter  of  1830." 

"I  will  dress  and  go  to  the  Minister,"  said  the  baron,  as 
they  rose  from  table.  " Time  is  precious;  a  man's  life  hangs 
on  every  minute." 

"  Oh,  mamma,  there  is  no  hope  for  me  !  "  cried  Hortense. 
And,  unable  to  check  her  tears,  she  handed  to  her  mother  a 
number  of  the  "  Revue  des  Beaux  Arts." 

Madame  Hulot's  eye  fell  on  a  print  of  the  group  of 
"  Delilah  "  by  Count  Steinbock,  under  which  were  the  words, 
"The  property  of  Madame  Marneffe." 

The  very  first  lines  of  the  article,  signed  "V.,"  showed  the 
talent  and  friendliness  of  Claud  Vignon. 

"  Poor  child  !  "  said  the  baroness. 

Alarmed  by  her  mother's  tone  of  indifference,  Hortense 
looked  up,  saw  the  expression  of  a  sorrow  before  which  her 
own  paled,  and  rose  to  kiss  her  mother,  saying — 


314  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

**  What  is  the  matter,  mamma?  What  is  happening?  Can 
we  be  more  wretched  than  we  are  already?" 

"  My  child,  it  seems  to  me  that  in  what  I  am  going  through 
to-day  my  past  dreadful  sorrows  are  as  nothing.  When  shall 
I  have  ceased  to  suffer  ? ' ' 

"In  heaven,  mother,"  said  Hortense  solemnly. 

*'  Come,  my  angel,  help  me  to  dress.  No,  no ;  I  will  not 
have  you  help  me  in  this  !     Send  me  Louise." 

Adeline,  in  her  room,  went  to  study  herself  in  the  glass. 
She  looked  at  herself  closely  and  sadly,  wondering  to  herself — 

** Am  I  still  handsome?  Can  I  still  be  desirable?  Am  I 
not  wrinkled  ?" 

She  lifted  up  her  fine  golden  hair,  uncovering  her  temples ; 
they  were  as  fresh  as  a  girl's.  She  went  further;  she  uncov- 
ered her  shoulders,  and  was  satisfied ;  nay,  she  had  a  little 
feeling  of  pride.  The  beauty  of  really  handsome  shoulders  is 
one  of  the  last  charms  a  woman  loses,  especially  if  she  has 
lived  chastely. 

Adeline  chose  her  dress  carefully,  but  the  pious  and  blame- 
less woman  is  decent  to  the  end,  in  spite  of  her  little  coquettish 
graces.  Of  what  use  were  brand-new  gray  silk  stockings  and 
high-heeled  satin  shoes  when  she  was  absolutely  ignorant  of 
the  art  of  displaying  a  pretty  foot  at  a  critical  moment,  by 
obtruding  it  an  inch  or  two  beyond  a  half-lifted  skirt,  opening 
horizons  to  desire.  She  put  on,  indeed,  her  prettiest  flowered 
muslin  dress,  with  a  low  body  and  short  sleeves ;  but  horrified 
at  so  much  bareness,  she  covered  her  fine  arms  with  clear 
gauze  sleeves  and  hid  her  shoulders  under  an  embroidered 
cape.  Her  curls,  in  English  fashion,  struck  her  as  too  fly- 
away ;  she  subdued  their  airy  lightness  by  putting  on  a  very 
pretty  cap;  but,  with  or  without  the  cap,  would  she  have 
known  how  to  twist  the  golden  ringlets  so  as  to  show  off"  her 
taper  fingers  to  admiration  ? 

As  to  rouge — the  consciousness  of  guilt,  the  preparations 
for  a  deliberate  fall,  threw  this  saintly  woman  into  a  state  of 


COUSIN  BETTY.  315 

high  fever,  which,  for  the  time,  revived  the  brilliant  coloring 
of  youth.  Her  eyes  were  bright,  her  cheeks  glowed.  Instead 
of  assuming  a  seductive  air,  she  saw  in  herself  a  look  of  bare- 
faced audacity  which  shocked  her. 

Lisbeth,  at  Adeline's  request,  had  told  her  all  the  circum- 
stances of  Wenceslas'  infidelity  ;  and  the  baroness  had  learned, 
to  her  utter  amazement,  that  in  one  evening,  in  one  moment, 
Madame  Marneffe  had  made  herself  the  mistress  of  the  be- 
witched artist. 

"How  do  these  women  do  it?"  the  baroness  had  asked 
Lisbeth. 

There  is  no  curiosity  so  great  as  that  of  virtuous  women  on 
such  subjects ;  they  would  like  to  know  the  arts  of  vice  and 
remain  immaculate. 

**  Why,  they  are  seductive ;  it  is  their  business,"  said  Cousin 
Betty.  "Valerie  that  evening,  my  dear,  was,  I  declare, 
enough  to  bring  an  angel  to  perdition." 

"  But  tell  me  how  she  set  to  work." 

"There  is  no  theory,  only  practice  in  that  walk  of  life," 
said  Lisbeth  ironically. 

The  baroness,  recalling  this  conversation,  would  have  liked 
to  consult  Cousin  Betty  ;  but  there  was  no  time  for  that. 
Poor  Adeline,  incapable  of  imagining  a  patch,  of  pinning  a 
rosebud  in  the  very  middle  of  her  bosom,  of  devising  the 
tricks  of  the  toilet  intended  to  resuscitate  the  ardors  of  ex- 
hausted nature,  was  merely  well  dressed.  A  woman  is  not  a 
courtesan  for  the  wishing  ! 

"Woman  is  soup  for  man,"  as  Moli^re  says  by  the  mouth 
of  the  judicious  Gros-Rene.  This  comparison  suggests  a  sort 
of  culinary  art  in  love.  Then  the  virtuous  wife  would  be  a 
Homeric  meal,  flesh  laid  on  hot  cinders.  The  courtesan,  on 
the  contrary,  is  a  dish  by  CarSme,  with  its  condiments,  spices, 
and  elegant  arrangement.  The  baroness  could  not — did  not 
know  how  to  serve  up  her  fair  bosom  in  a  lordly  dish  of  lace, 
after  the  manner  of  Madame  Marneffe.     She  knew  nothing  of 


316  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

the  secrets  of  certain  attitudes,  the  effect  of  certain  looks. 
She  had  no  box  of  mysteries.  This  high-souled  woman  might 
have  turned  round  and  round  a  hundred  times,  and  she  would 
have  betrayed  nothing  to  the  keen  glance  of  an  abandoned 
profligate. 

To  be  a  good  woman  and  a  prude  to  all  the  world,  and  a 
courtesan  to  her  husband,  is  the  gift  of  a  woman  of  genius, 
and  they  are  few.  This  is  the  secret  of  long  fidelity,  inex- 
plicable to  the  women  who  are  not  blessed  with  this  double 
and  splendid  faculty.  Imagine  Madame  Marneffe  virtuous, 
and  you  have  the  Marchesa  di  Pescara.  But  such  lofty  and 
illustrious  women,  beautiful  as  Diane  de  Poitiers,  but  virtuous, 
may  be  easily  counted. 

So  the  scene  with  which  this  serious  and  terrible  drama  of 
Paris  manners  opened  was  about  to  be  repeated,  with  this 
singular  difference — that  the  calamities  prophesied  then  by  the 
captain  of  the  municipal  militia  had  reversed  the  parts.  Ma- 
dame Hulot  was  awaiting  Crevel  with  the  same  intentions  as 
had  brought  him  to  her,  smiling  down  at  the  Paris  crowd  from 
his  carriage,  three  years  ago.  And,  strangest  thing  of  all,  the 
baroness  was  true  to  herself  and  to  her  love,  while  preparing 
to  yield  to  the  grossest  infidelity,  such  as  the  storm  of  passion 
even  does  not  justify  in  the  eyes  of  some  judges. 

"What  can  I  do  to  become  a  Madame  Marneffe?"  she 
asked  herself  as  she  heard  the  door-bell. 

She  restrained  her  tears,  fever  gave  brilliancy  to  her  face, 
and  she  meant  to  be  quite  the  courtesan,  poor,  noble  soul. 

**  What  the  devil  can  that  worthy  Baronne  Hulot  want  of 
me?"  Crevel  wondered  as  he  mounted  the  stairs.  "  She  is 
going  to  discuss  my  quarrel  with  Celestine  and  Victorin,  no 
doubt ;  but  I  will  not  give  way  !  " 

As  lie  went  into  the  drawing-room,  shown  in  by  Louise,  he 
said  to  himself  as  he  noted  the  bareness  of  the  place  (Crcvel's 
word) : 


COUSIN  BETTY.  317 

*'  Poor  woman  !  She  lives  here  like  some  fine  picture  stowed 
in  a  loft  by  a  man  who  knows  nothing  of  painting." 

Crevel,  seeing  Comte  Popinot,  the  minister  of  commerce, 
buy  pictures  and  statues,  wanted  also  to  figure  as  a  Maecenas 
of  Paris,  whose  love  of  Art  consists  in  making  good  invest- 
ments. 

Adeline  smiled  graciously  at  Crevel,  pointing  to  a  chair 
facing  her. 

"Here  am  I,  fair  lady,  at  your  command,"  said  Crevel. 

Monsieur  the  mayor,  a  political  personage,  now  wore  black 
broadcloth.  His  face,  at  the  top  of  this  solemn  suit,  shone 
like  a  full  moon  rising  above  a  mass  of  dark  clouds.  His 
shirt,  buttoned  with  three  large  pearls  worth  five  hundred 
francs  a-piece,  gave  a  great  idea  of  his  thoracic  capacity,  and 
he  was  apt  to  say:  "In  me  you  see  the  coming  athlete  of 
the  tribune  !  "  His  enormous,  vulgar  hands  were  encased  in 
yellow  gloves  even  in  the  morning ;  his  patent-leather  shoes 
spoke  of  the  chocolate-colored  coupe  with  one  horse  in  which 
he  drove. 

In  the  course  of  three  years  ambition  had  altered  Crevel's 
pretensions.  Like  all  great  artists  he  had  come  to  his  second 
manner.  In  the  great  world,  when  he  went  to  the  Prince  de 
Wissembourg's,  to  the  prefecture,  to  Comte  Popinot's,  and 
the  like,  he  held  his  hat  in  his  hand  in  an  airy  manner  taught 
him  by  Valerie,  and  he  inserted  the  thumb  of  the  other  hand 
in  the  armhole  of  his  waistcoat  with  a  knowing  air,  and  a 
simpering  face  and  expression.  This  new  grace  of  attitude 
was  due  to  the  satirical  inventiveness  of  Valerie,  who,  under 
pretense  of  rejuvenating  her  mayor,  had  given  him  an  added 
touch  of  the  ridiculous. 

"  I  begged  you  to  come,  my  dear,  kind  Monsieur  Crevel," 
said  the  baroness  in  a  husky  voice,  "  on  a  matter  of  the  greatest 
importance ' ' 

**  I  can  guess  what  it  is,  madame,"  said  Crevel,  with  a  know- 
ing air,  "but  what  you  would  ask  is  impossible.     Oh,  I  am 


318  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

not  a  brutal  father,  a  man — to  use  Napoleon's  words — set  hard 
and  fast  on  sheer  avarice.  Listen  to  me,  fair  lady.  If  my 
children  were  ruining  themselves  for  their  own  benefit,  I 
would  help  them  out  of  the  scrape ;  but  as  for  backing  your 
husband,  madame?  It  is  like  trying  to  fill  the  vat  of  the 
Danaides !  Their  house  is  mortgaged  for  three  hundred 
thousand  francs  for  an  incorrigible  father  !  Why,  they  have 
nothing  left,  poor  wretches  !  And  they  have  no  fun  for  their 
money.  All  they  have  to  live  upon  is  what  Victorin  may 
make  in  Court.  He  must  wag  his  tongue  more,  must  monsieur 
your  son  !  And  he  was  to  have  been  a  minister,  that  learned 
youth !  Our  hope  and  pride.  A  pretty  pilot,  who  runs 
aground  like  a  landlubber;  for  if  he  had  borrowed  to  enable 
him  to  get  on,  if  he  had  run  into  debt  for  feasting  deputies, 
winning  votes,  and  increasing  his  influence,  I  should  be  the 
first  to  say,  '  Here  is  my  purse — dip  your  hand  in,  my 
friend ! '  But  when  it  comes  to  paying  for  papa's  folly — 
folly  I  warned  you  of !  Ah  !  his  father  has  deprived  him  of 
every  chance  of  power.     It  is  I  who  shall  be  a  minister  !  " 

"Alas,  my  dear  Crevel,  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  chil- 
dren, poor  devoted  souls  !  If  your  heart  is  closed  to  Victorin 
and  Celestine,  I  shall  love  them  so  much  that,  perhaps,  I  may 
soften  the  bitterness  of  their  souls  caused  by  your  anger.  You 
are  punishing  your  children  for  a  good  action  !  " 

"  Yes,  for  a  good  action  badly  done  !  That  is  half  a  crime," 
said  Crevel,  much  pleased  with  his  epigram. 

"  Doing  good,  my  dear  Crevel,  does  not  mean  sparing 
money  out  of  a  purse  that  is  bursting  with  it ;  it  means  endur- 
ing privations  to  be  generous,  suffering  for  liberality !  It  is 
being  prepared  for  ingratitude !  Heaven  does  not  see  the 
charity  that  costs  us  nothing " 

"Saints,  madame,  may,  if  they  please,  go  to  the  poor- 
house;  they  know  that  it  is  for  them  the  door  of  heaven.  For 
my  part,  I  am  worldly-minded ;  I  fear  God,  but  yet  more  I  fear 
the  hell  of  poverty.     To  be  destitute  is  the  last  depth  of  mis- 


COUSIN  BETTY.  319 

fortune  in  society  as  now  constituted.  I  am  a  man  of  my 
time;  I  respect  money." 

"And  you  are  right,"  said  Adeline,  **  from  the  worldly  point 
of  view." 

She  was  a  thousand  miles  from  her  point,  and  she  felt  her- 
self on  a  gridiron,  like  Saint  Lawrence,  as  she  thought  of  her 
uncle,  for  she  could  see  him  blowing  his  brains  out. 

She  looked  down ;  then  she  raised  her  eyes  to  gaze  at  Crevel 
with  angelic  sweetness — not  with  the  inviting  suggestiveness 
which  was  part  of  Valerie's  wit.  Three  years  ago  she  could 
have  bewitched  Crevel  by  that  beautiful  look. 

'*  I  have  known  the  time,"  said  she,  "when  you  were  more 
generous — you  used  to  talk  of  three  hundred  thousand  francs 
like  a  grand  gentleman " 

Crevel  looked  at  Madame  Hulot ;  he  beheld  her  like  a  lily 
in  the  last  of  its  bloom,  vague  sensations  rose  within  him,  but 
he  felt  such  respect  for  this  saintly  creature  that  he  spurned 
all  suspicions  and  buried  them  in  the  most  profligate  corner 
of  his  heart. 

"  I,  madame,  am  still  the  same ;  but  a  retired  merchant,  if 
he  is  a  grand  gentleman,  plays,  and  must  play,  the  part  with 
method  and  economy  ;  he  carries  his  ideas  of  order  into  every- 
thing. He  opens  an  account  for  his  little  amusements,  and 
devotes  certain  profits  to  that  head  of  expenditure :  but  as  to 
touching  his  capital !  it  would  be  folly.  My  children  will  have 
their  fortune  intact,  mine  and  my  wife's ;  but  I  do  not  suppose 
that  they  wish  their  father  to  be  dull,  a  monk  and  a  mummy ! 
My  life  is  a  very  jolly  one ;  I  float  gaily  down  the  stream.  I 
fulfill  all  the  duties  imposed  on  me  by  law,  by  my  affections, 
and  by  family  ties,  just  as  I  always  used  to  be  punctual  in 
paying  my  bills  when  they  fell  due.  If  only  my  children 
conduct  themselves  in  their  domestic  life  as  I  do,  I  shall  be 
satisfied ;  and  for  the  present,  so  long  as  my  follies — for  I 
have  committed  follies — are  no  loss  to  any  one  but  the  gulls — 
excuse  me,  you  do  not  perhaps  understand  the  slang  word — 


320  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

they  will  have  nothing  to  blame  me  for,  and  will  find  a  tidy 
little  sum  still  left  when  I  die.  Your  children  cannot  say  as 
much  of  their  father,  who  is  ruining  his  son  and  my  daughter 
by  his  pranks " 

The  baroness  was  getting  further  from  her  object  as  he  went 
on. 

"You  are  very  unkind  about  my  husband,  my  dear  Crevel 
— and  yet,  if  you  had  found  his  wife  obliging,  you  would  have 
been  his  best  friend " 

She  shot  a  burning  glance  at  Crevel ;  but,  like  Dubois,  who 
gave  the  Regent  three  kicks,  she  affected  too  much,  and  the 
rakish  perfumer's  thouglits  jumped  at  such  profligate  sugges- 
tions, that  he  said  to  himself,  ''Does  she  want  to  turn  the 
tables  on  Hulot  ?  Does  she  think  me  more  attractive  as  a 
Mayor  than  as  a  National  Guardsman  ?  Women  are  strange 
creatures !  " 

And  he  assumed  the  position  of  his  second  manner,  looking 
at  the  baroness  with  his  "Regency"  leer. 

"  I  could  almost  fancy,"  she  went  on,  "that  you  want  to 
visit  on  him  your  resentment  against  the  virtue  that  resisted 
you — in  a  woman  whom  you  loved  well  enough — to — to  buy 
her,"  she  added  in  a  low  voice. 

"In  a  divine  woman,"  Crevel  replied,  with  a  meaning 
smile  at  the  baroness,  who  looked  down  while  tears  rose  to 
her  eyes.  "  For  you  have  swallowed  not  a  few  bitter  pills  ! — 
in  these  three  years — eh,  my  beauty?  " 

"  Do  not  talk  of  my  troubles,  dear  Crevel ;  they  are  too 
much  for  the  endurance  of  a  mere  human  being.  Ah  !  if  you 
still  love  me,  you  may  drag  me  out  of  the  pit  in  which  I 
lie.  Yes,  I  am  in  hell's  torment !  The  regicides  who  were 
racked  and  nipped  and  torn  into  quarters  by  four  horses  were 
on  roses  compared  with  me,  for  their  bodies  only  were  dis- 
membered, and  my  heart  is  torn  in  quarters " 

Crevel's  thumb  moved  from  his  armhole,  he  placed  his  hand 
on   the  work-table,  he   abandoned  his  attitude,  he  smiled  ! 


COUSIN  BETTY.  321 

The  smile  was  so  vacuous  that  it  misled  the  baroness;  she 
took  it  for  an  expression  of  kindness. 

"You  see  a  woman,  not  indeed  in  despair,  but  with  her 
honor  at  the  point  of  death,  and  prepared  for  everything,  my 
dear  friend,  to  hinder  a  crime." 

Fearing  that  Hortense  might  come  in,  she  bolted  the  door; 
then  with  equal  impetuosity  she  fell  at  Crevel's  feet,  took  his 
hand,  and  kissed  it. 

"  Be  my  deliverer  !  "  she  cried. 

She  thought  there  was  some  generous  fibre  in  this  mercan- 
tile soul,  and  full  of  sudden  hope  that  she  might  get  the  two 
hundred  thousand  francs  without  degrading  herself — 

"Buy  a  soul — you  were  once  ready  to  buy  virtue !  "  she 
went  on,  with  a  frenzied  gaze.  "  Trust  to  my  honesty  as  a 
woman,  to  my  honor,  of  which  you  know  the  worth  !  Be  my 
friend  !  Save  a  whole  family  from  ruin,  shame,  despair  ;  keep 
it  from  falling  into  a  bog  where  the  quicksands  are  mingled 
with  blood  !  Oh  !  ask  for  no  explanations,"  she  exclaimed, 
at  a  movement  on  Crevel's  part,  who  was  about  to  speak. 
"  Above  all,  do  not  say  to  me,  *  I  told  you  so  ! '  like  a  friend 
who  is  glad  at  a  misfortune.  Come  now,  yield  to  her  whom 
you  used  to  love,  to  the  woman  whose  humiliation  at  your  feet 
is  perhaps  the  crowning  moment  of  her  glory ;  ask  nothing  of 
her,  expect  what  you  will  from  her  gratitude !  No,  no.  Give 
me  nothing,  but  lend — lend  to  me  whom  you  used  to  call 
Adeline " 

At  this  point  her  tears  flowed  so  fast,  Adeline  was  sobbing 
so  passionately,  that  Crevel's  gloves  were  wet.  The  words, 
"I  need  two  hundred  thousand  francs,"  were  scarcely  articu- 
late in  the  torrent  of  weeping,  as  stones,  however  large,  are 
invisible  in  Alpine  cataracts  swollen  by  the  melting  of  the 
snows. 

This  is  the  inexperience  of  virtue.  Vice  asks  for  nothing, 
as  we  have  seen  in  Madame  Marneffe ;  it  gets  everything 
offered  to  it.  Women  of  that  stamp  are  never  exacting  till 
21 


322  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

they  have  made  themselves  indispensable,  or  when  a  man  has 
to  be  worked  as  a  quarry  is  worked  where  the  lime  is  rather 
scarce — going  to  ruin,  as  the  quarrymen  say. 

On  hearing  these  words,  "  Two  hundred  thousand  francs," 
Crevel  understood  all.  He  cheerfully  raised  the  baroness, 
saying  insolently : 

"Come,  come,  bear  up,  mother,"  which  Adeline,  in  her 
distraction,  failed  to  hear.  The  scene  was  changing  its  char- 
acter. Crevel  was  becoming  "master  of  the  situation,"  to 
use  his  own  words.  The  vastness  of  the  sum  startled  Crevel 
so  greatly  that  his  emotion  at  seeing  this  handsome  woman  in 
tears  at  his  feet  was  forgotten.  Beside,  however  angelic  and 
saintly  a  woman  may  be,  when  she  is  crying  bitterly  her  beauty 
disappears.  A  Madame  MarnefFe,  as  has  been  seen,  whimpers 
now  and  then,  a  tear  trickles  down  her  cheek ;  but  as  to  melt- 
ing into  tears  and  making  her  eyes  and  nose  red  !  never  would 
she  commit  such  a  blunder. 

"  Come,  child,  compose  yourself.  Deuce  take  it !  "  Crevel 
went  on,  taking  Madame  Hulot's  hands  in  his  own  and  patting 
them.  "  Why  do  you  apply  to  me  for  two  hundred  thousand 
francs?  What  do  you  want  with  them?  Whom  are  they 
for?" 

"Do  not,"  said  she,  "insist  on  any  explanations.  Give 
me  the  money  !  You  will  save  three  lives  and  the  honor  of 
our  children." 

"And  do  you  suppose,  my  good  mother,  that  in  all  Paris 
you  will  find  a  man  who  at  a  word  from  a  half-crazy  woman 
will  go  off  hie  et  nunc,  and  bring  out  of  some  drawer,  heaven 
knows  where,  two  hundred  thousand  francs  that  have  been 
lying  simmering  there  till  she  is  pleased  to  scoop  them  up  ? 
Is  that  all  you  know  of  life  and  of  business,  my  beauty? 
Your  people  are  in  a  bad  way ;  you  may  send  them  the  last 
sacraments;  for  no  one  in  Paris  but  her  Divine  Highness 
Madame  la  Banque,  or  the  great  Nucingen,  or  some  miser- 
able niiser  who  is  in  love  with  gold  as  we  other  people  are 


COUSIN  BETTY.  323 

with  a  woman,  could  produce  such  a  miracle  !  The  civil  list, 
civil  as  it  may  be,  would  beg  you  to  call  again  to-morrow. 
Every  one  invests  his  money,  and  turns  it  over  to  the  best  of 
his  powers. 

"You  are  quite  mistaken,  my  angel,  if  you  suppose  that 
King  Louis-Philippe  rules  us ;  he  himself  knows  better  than 
that.  He  knows  as  well  as  we  do  that  supreme  above  the 
Charter  reigns  the  holy,  venerated,  substantial,  delightful, 
obliging,  beautiful,  noble,  ever-youthful,  and  all-powerful  five- 
franc  piece.  But  money,  my  beauty,  insists  on  interest,  and 
is  always  engaged  in  seeking  it !  '  God  of  the  Jews,  thou  art 
supreme  !  '  says  Racine.  The  perennial  parable  of  the  golden 
calf,  you  see !  In  the  days  of  Moses  there  was  stock-jobbing 
in  the  desert ! 

"  We  have  reverted  to  Biblical  traditions;  the  Golden  Calf 
was  the  first  State  ledger,"  he  went  on.  "  You,  my  Adeline, 
have  not  gone  beyond  the  Rue  Plumet.  The  Egyptians  had 
lent  enormous  sums  to  the  Hebrews,  and  what  they  ran  after 
was  not  God's  people,  but  their  capital." 

He  looked  at  the  baroness  with  an  expression  which  said, 
*'  How  clever  I  am  !  " 

"You  know  nothing  of  the  devotion  of  every  city  man  to 
his  sacred  hoard  !  "  he  went  on,  after  a  pause.  "  Excuse  me. 
Listen  to  me.  Get  this  well  into  your  head  :  You  want  two 
hundred  thousand  francs  ?  No  one  can  produce  the  sum  with- 
out selling  some  security.  Now  consider  !  To  have  two  hun- 
dred thousand  francs  in  hard  cash  it  would  be  needful  to  sell 
about  seven  hundred  thousand  francs'  worth  of  stock  at  three 
per  cent.  Well ;  and  then  you  could  only  get  the  money  on 
the  third  day.  That  is  the  quickest  way.  To  persuade  a  man 
to  part  with  a  fortune — for  two  hundred  thousand  francs  is  the 
whole  fortune  of  many  a  man — he  ought  at  least  to  know  where 
it  is  all  going  to,  and  for  what  purpose " 

"It  is  going,  my  dear  kind  Crevel,  to  save  the  lives  of  two 
men,  one  of  whom  will  die  of  grief,  and  the  other  will  kill 


824  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

himself !  And  to  save  me,  too,  from  going  mad  !  Am  I  not 
a  little  mad  already?  " 

**  Not  so  mad  !  "  said  he,  taking  Madame  Hulot  round  the 
knees;  ''old  Crevel  has  his  price,  since  you  thought  of  apply- 
ing to  him,  my  angel." 

"  They  submit  to  have  a  man's  arms  round  their  knees,  it 
would  seem  !  "  thought  the  saintly  woman,  covering  her  face 
with  her  hands. 

*'  Once  you  offered  me  a  fortune  !  "  said  she,  turning  red. 

"Ay,  mother!  but  that  was  three  years  ago!"  replied 
Crevel.  "Well,  you  are  handsomer  now  than  ever  I  saw 
you!  "  he  went  on,  taking  the  baroness'  arm  and  pressing  it 
to  his  heart.  "  You  have  a  good  memory,  my  dear,  by  Jove  ! 
And  now  you  see  how  wrong  you  were  to  be  so  prudish,  for 
those  three  hundred  thousand  francs  that  you  refused  so  mag- 
nanimously are  in  another  woman's  pocket.  I  loved  you  then, 
I  love  you  still ;  but  just  look  back  these  three  years. 

"When  I  said  to  you:  'You  shall  be  mine,'  what  object 
had  I  in  view  ?  I  meant  to  be  revenged  on  that  rascal  Hulot. 
But  your  husband,  my  beauty,  found  himself  a  mistress — a 
jewel  of  a  woman,  a  pearl,  a  cunning  hussy  then  aged  three- 
and-twenty,  for  she  is  six-and-twenty  now.  It  struck  me  as 
more  amusing,  more  complete,  more  Louis  XV.,  more  Mar6- 
chal  de  Richelieu,  more  first-class  altogether,  to  filch  away 
that  charmer,  who,  in  point  of  fact,  never  cared  for  Hulot, 
and  who  for  these  three  years  has  been  madly  in  love  with 
your  humble  servant." 

As  he  spoke,  Crevel,  from  whose  hands  the  baroness  had  re- 
leased her  own,  had  resumed  his  favorite  attitude  ;  both  thumbs 
were  stuck  into  his  armholes,  and  he  was  patting  his  ribs  with 
his  fingers,  like  two  flapping  wings,  fancying  that  he  was  thus 
making  himself  very  attractive  and  charming.  It  was  as 
much  as  to  say :  "  And  this  is  the  man  to  whom  you  would 
have  nothing  to  say  !  " 

"  There  you  are,  my  dear ;  I  have  had  my  revenge  and  your 


COUSIN  BETTY.  325 

husband  knows  it.  I  proved  to  him  clearly  that  he  was  bask- 
eted— ^just  where  he  was  before,  as  we  say.  Madame  Marneffe 
is  my  mistress,  and  when  her  precious  Marneffe  kicks  the 
bucket,  she  will  be  my  wife." 

Madame  Hulot  stared  at  Crevel  with  a  fixed  and  almost 
dazed  look. 

**  Hector  knew  it  ?  "  she  said. 

'*  And  went  back  to  her,"  replied  Crevel.  "And  I  allowed 
it,  because  Valerie  wished  to  be  the  wife  of  a  head-clerk ;  but 
she  promised  me  that  she  would  manage  things  so  that  our  baron 
should  be  so  effectually  bowled  over  that  he  can  never  inter- 
fere any  more.  And  my  little  duchess — for  that  woman  is  a 
born  duchess,  on  my  soul ! — kept  her  word.  She  restores  you 
your  Hector,  madame,  virtuous  in  perpetuity,  as  she  says — 
she  is  so  witty  !  He  has  had  a  good  lesson,  I  can  tell  you  ! 
The  baron  has  had  some  hard  knocks ;  he  will  keep  no  more 
actresses  or  fine  ladies ;  he  is  radically  cured ;  rinsed  out  like 
a  beer-glass. 

"If  you  had  listened  to  Crevel  in  the  first  instance,  instead 
of  scorning  him  and  turning  him  out  of  the  house,  you  might 
have  had  four  hundred  thousand  francs,  for  my  revenge  has 
cost  me  all  of  that.  But  I  shall  get  my  change  back,  I  hope, 
when  Marneffe  dies — I  have  invested  in  a  wife,  you  see ;  that 
is  the  secret  of  my  extravagance.  I  have  solved  the  problem 
of  playing  the  lord  on  easy  terms." 

"Would  you  give  your  daughter  such  a  mother-in-law?" 
cried  Madame  Hulot. 

"You  do  not  know  Valerie,  madame,"  replied  Crevel 
gravely,  striking  the  attitude  of  his  first  manner.  "She  is  a 
woman  with  good  blood  in  her  veins,  a  lady,  and  a  woman 
who  enjoys  the  highest  consideration.  Why,  only  yesterday 
the  vicar  of  the  parish  was  dining  with  her.  She  is  pious,  and 
we  have  presented  a  splendid  monstrance  to  the  church. 

"  O !  she  is  clever,  she  is  witty,  she  is  delightful,  well 
informed — she  has  everything  in  her  favor.     For  my  part,  my 


326  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

dear  Adeline,  I  owe  everything  to  that  charming  woman  ;  she 
has  opened  ray  mind,  polished  my  speech,  as  y^ou  may  have 
noticed ;  she  corrects  my  impetuosity,  and  gives  me  words  and 
ideas.  I  never  say  anything  now  that  I  ought  not.  I  have 
greatly  improved ;  you  must  have  noticed  it.  And  then  she 
has  encouraged  my  ambition.  I  shall  be  a  deputy;  and  I 
shall  make  no  blunders,  for  I  shall  consult  my  Egeria.  Every 
great  politician,  from  Numa  to  our  present  prime  minister,  has 
had  his  Sibyl  of  the  fountain.  A  score  of  deputies  visit 
Valerie ;  she  is  acquiring  considerable  influence ;  and  now  that 
she  is  about  to  be  established  in  a  charming  house,  with  a 
carriage,  she  will  be  one  of  the  occult  rulers  of  Paris. 

"  A  fine  locomotive  !  That  is  what  such  a  woman  is.  Oh, 
I  have  blessed  you  many  a  time  for  your  stern  virtue." 

"  It  is  enough  to  make  one  doubt  the  goodness  of  God  !  " 
cried  Adeline,  whose  indignation  had  dried  her  tears.  "But, 
no  !  Divine  justice  must  be  hanging  over  her  head." 

"You  know  nothing  of  the  world,  my  beauty,"  said  the 
great  politician,  deeply  offended.  "The  world,  my  Adeline, 
loves  success  !  Say,  now,  has  it  come  to  seek  out  your  sublime 
virtue,  priced  at  two  hundred  thousand  francs?" 

The  words  made  Madame  Hulot  shudder;  the  nervous 
trembling  attacked  her  once  more.  She  saw  that  the  ex-per- 
fumer was  taking  a  mean  revenge  on  her  as  he  had  on  Hulot ; 
she  felt  sick  with  disgust,  and  a  spasm  rose  to  her  throat,  hin- 
dering speech. 

"  Money  !  "  she  said  at  last.     "Always  money !  " 

"You  touched  me  deeply,"  said  Crevel,  reminded  by  these 
words  of  the  woman's  humiliation,  "  when  I  beheld  you  there, 
weeping  at  my  feet !  You  perhaps  will  not  believe  me,  but  if 
I  had  my  pocket-book  about  me,  it  would  have  been  yours. 
Come,  do  you  really  want  such  a  sum  ?  " 

As  she  heard  this  question,  big  with  two  hundred  thousand 
francs,  Adeline  forgot  the  odious  insults  heaped  on  her  by  this 
cheap-jack   fine  gentleman,  before   the   tempting  picture  of 


COUSIN  BETTY.  327 

success  described  by  Machiavelli-Crevel,  who  only  wanted  to 
find  out  her  secrets  and  laugh  over  them  with  Valerie. 

"Oh  !  I  will  do  anything,  everything,"  cried  the  unhappy 
woman.  "  Monsieur,  I  will  sell  myself — I  will  be  a  Valerie, 
if  I  must." 

"You  would  find  that  difficult,"  replied  Crevel.  "  Valerie 
is  a  masterpiece  in  her  way.  My  good  mother,  twenty-five 
years  of  virtue  are  always  repellent,  like  a  badly  treated  dis- 
ease. And  your  virtue  has  grown  very  moldy,  my  dear  child. 
But  you  shall  see  how  much  I  love  you.  I  will  manage  to 
get  you  your  two  hundred  thousand  francs." 

Adeline,  incapable  of  uttering  a  word,  seized  his  hand  and 
laid  it  on  her  heart ;  a  tear  of  joy  trembled  in  her  eyes. 

"  Oh  !  don't  be  in  a  hurry;  there  will  be  some  hard  pulling. 
I  am  a  jolly  good  fellow,  a  good  soul  with  no  prejudices,  and 
I  will  put  things  plainly  to  you.  You  want  to  do  as  Valerie 
does — very  good.  But  that  is  not  all ;  you  must  have  a  gull, 
a  stockholder,  a  Hulot.  Well,  I  know  a  retired  tradesman — 
in  fact,  a  hosier.  He  is  heavy,  dull,  has  not  an  idea,  I  am 
licking  him  into  shape,  but  I  don't  know  when  he  will  do  me 
credit.  My  man  is  a  deputy,  stupid  and  conceited ;  the  tyr- 
anny of  a  turbaned  wife,  in  the  depths  of  the  country,  has 
preserved  him  in  a  state  of  utter  virginity  as  to  the  luxury 
and  pleasures  of  Paris  life.  But  Beauvisage — his  name  is 
Beauvisage — is  a  millionaire,  and,  like  me,  my  dear,  three 
years  ago,  he  will  give  a  hundred  thousand  crowns  to  be  the 
lover  of  a  real  lady.  Yes,  you  see,"  he  went  on,  misunder- 
standing a  gesture  on  Adeline's  part,  "  he  is  jealous  of  me,  you 
understand  ;  jealous  of  my  happiness  with  Madame  Marneffe, 
and  he  is  a  fellow  quite  capable  of  selling  an  estate  to  thus  pur- 
chase a " 

"Enough,  Monsieur  Crevel!"  said  Madame  Hulot,  no 
longer  controlling  her  disgust,  and  showing  all  her  shame  in 
her  face.  "  I  am  punished  beyond  my  deserts.  My  conscience, 
so  sternly  repressed  by  the  iron  hand  of  necessity,  tells  me, 


328  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

at  this  final  insult,  that  such  sacrifices  are  impossible.  My 
pride  is  gone  j  I  do  not  say  now,  as  I  did  the  first  time,  *  Go ! ' 
after  receiving  this  mortal  thrust.  I  have  lost  the  right  to  do 
so.     I  have  flung  myself  before  you  like  a  prostitute. 

**  Yes,"  she  went  on,  in  reply  to  a  negative  on  Crevel's  part, 
**  I  have  fouled  my  life,  till  now  so  pure,  by  a  degrading 
thought ;  and  I  am  inexcusable  !  I  know  it !  I  deserve  every 
insult  you  can  offer  me  !  God's  will  be  done  !  If,  indeed, 
He  desires  the  death  of  two  creatures  worthy  to  appear  before 
Him,  they  must  die  !  I  shall  mourn  them,  and  pray  for 
them  !  If  it  is  His  will  that  my  family  should  be  humbled  to 
the  dust,  we  must  bow  to  His  avenging  sword,  nay,  and  kiss 
it,  since  we  are  Christians.  I  know  how  to  expiate  this  dis- 
grace, which  will  be  the  torment  of  all  my  remaining  days. 

"I  who  speak  to  you,  monsieur,  am  not  Madame  Hulot, 
but  a  wretched,  humble  sinner,  a  Christian  whose  heart  hence- 
forth will  know  but  one  feeling,  and  that  is  repentance,  all  my 
time  given  up  to  prayer  and  charity.  With  such  a  sin  on  my 
soul,  I  am  the  last  of  women,  the  first  only  of  penitents.  You 
have  been  the  means  of  bringing  me  to  a  right  mind ;  I  can 
hear  the  voice  of  God  speaking  within  me,  and  I  can  thank 
you !  " 

She  was  shaking  with  the  nervous  trembling  which  from 
that  hour  never  left  her.  Her  low,  sweet  tones  were  quite 
unlike  the  fevered  accents  of  the  woman  who  was  ready  for 
dishonor  to  save  her  family.  The  blood  faded  from  her 
cheeks,  her  face  was  colorless,  and  her  eyes  were  dry. 

"And  I  played  my  part  very  badly,  did  I  not?  "  she  went 
on,  looking  at  Crevel  with  the  sweetness  that  martyrs  must 
have  shown  in  their  eyes  as  they  looked  up  at  the  proconsul. 
"True  love,  the  sacred  love  of  a  devoted  woman,  gives  other 
pleasures,  no  doubt,  than  those  that  are  bought  in  the  open 
market!  But  why  so  many  words?"  said  she,  suddenly  be- 
thinking herself,  and  advancing  a  step  further  in  the  way  to 
perfection.     **  They  sound  like  irony,  but  I  am  not  ironical  • 


COUSIN  BETTY.  329 

Forgive  me.  Beside,  monsieur,  I  did  not  want  to  hurt  any 
one  but  myself ' ' 

The  dignity  of  virtue  and  its  holy  flame  had  expelled  the 
transient  impurity  of  the  woman  who,  splendid  in  her  own 
peculiar  beauty,  looked  taller  in  Crevel's  eyes.  Adeline  had, 
at  this  moment,  the  majesty  of  the  figures  of  Religion  cling- 
ing to  the  cross,  as  painted  by  the  old  Venetians  ;  but  she  ex- 
pressed, too,  the  immensity  of  her  love  and  the  grandeur  of 
the  Catholic  church,  to  which  she  flew  like  a  wounded  dove. 

Crevel  was  dazzled,  astounded. 

"Madame,  I  am  your  slave,  without  conditions,"  said  he, 
in  an  inspiration  of  generosity.  "  We  will  look  into  this 
matter — and — whatever  you  want — the  impossible  even — I 
will  do.  I  will  pledge  my  securities  at  the  bank,  and  in  two 
hours  you  shall  have  the  money." 

"Good  God!  a  miracle!"  said  poor  Adeline,  falling  on 
her  knees. 

She  prayed  to  heaven  with  such  fervor  as  touched  Crevel 
deeply ;  Madame  Hulot  saw  that  he  had  tears  in  his  eyes  when, 
having  ended  her  prayer,  she  rose  to  her  feet. 

"Be  a  friend  to  me,  monsieur,"  said  she.  "Your  heart  is 
better  than  your  words  and  conduct.  God  gave  you  your 
soul ;  your  passions  and  the  world  have  given  you  your  ideas. 
Oh,  I  will  love  you  truly,"  she  exclaimed,  with  an  angelic 
tenderness  in  strange  contrast  with  her  attempts  at  coquettish 
trickery. 

"But  cease  to  tremble  so,"  said  Crevel. 

"  Am  I  trembling  ?  "  said  the  baroness,  unconscious  of  the 
infirmity  that  had  so  suddenly  come  upon  her. 

"Yes;  why,  look,"  said  Crevel,  taking  Adeline  by  the 
arm  and  showing  her  that  she  was  shaking  with  nervousness. 
"Come,  madame,"  he  added  respectfully,  "compose  your- 
self; I  am  going  to  the  bank  at  once." 

"And  come  back  quickly!  Remember,"  she  added  be- 
traying all  her  secrets,  "  that  the  first  point  is  to  prevent  the 


330  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

suicide  of  our  poor  Uncle  Fischer  involved  by  my  husband — 
for  I  trust  you  now,  and  I  am  telling  you  everything.  Oh,  if 
we  should  not  be  in  time,  I  know  my  brother-in-law,  the  mar- 
shal, and  he  has  such  a  delicate  soul,  that  he  would  die  of  it 
in  a  few  days." 

"I  am  off,  then,"  said  Crevel,  kissing  the  baroness'  hand. 
"But  what  has  that  unhappy  Hulot  done?" 

"He  has  swindled  the  Government." 

"  Good  heavens !  I  fly,  madame ;  I  understand,  I  admire 
you!" 

Crevel  bent  one  knee,  kissed  Madame  Hulot's  skirt,  and 
vanished,  saying,  "You  will  see  me  soon." 

Unluckily,  on  his  way  from  the  Rue  Pluraet  to  his  own 
house,  to  fetch  the  securities,  Crevel  went  along  the  Rue 
Vanneau,  and  he  could  not  resist  going  in  to  see  his  little 
duchess.     His  face  still  bore  an  agitated  expression. 

He  went  straight  into  Valerie's  room,  who  was  having  her 
hair  dressed.  She  looked  at  Crevel  in  her  glass,  and,  like 
every  woman  of  her  sort,  was  annoyed,  before  she  knew  any- 
thing about  it,  to  see  that  he  was  moved  by  some  strong  feel- 
ing of  which  she  was  not  the  cause. 

"What  is  the  matter,  my  dear?"  said  she.  "Is  that  a 
face  to  bring  in  to  your  little  duchess?  I  will  not  be  your 
duchess  any  more,  monsieur,  no  more  than  I  will  be  your 
'little  duck,'  you  old  monster." 

Crevel  replied  by  a  melancholy  smile  and  a  glance  at  the 
maid. 

"Reine,  child,  that  will  do  for  to-day;  I  can  finish  my 
hair  myself.  Give  me  my  Chinese  wrapper ;  my  gentleman 
seems  to  me  out  of  sorts." 

Reine,  whose  face  was  pitted  like  a  colander,  and  who 
seemed  to  have  been  made  on  purpose  to  wait  on  Valerie, 
smiled  meaningly  in  reply,  and  brought  the  dressing-gown. 
Valerie  took  off  her  combing-wrapper ;  she  was  in  her  shift, 


COUSIN  BETTY.  331 

and  she  wriggled  into  the  dressing-gown  like  a  snake  into  a 
clump  of  grass. 

"  Madame  is  not  at  home? " 

"  What  a  question  !  "  said  Valerie.  "  Come,  tell  me,  my 
big  puss,  have  the  Left  Shore  shares  gone  down  ?  " 

'*No." 

" They  have  raised  the  price  of  the  house? " 

"No." 

"  You  fancy  that  you  are  not  the  father  of  our  little  Crevel  ?" 

"What  nonsense  !  "  replied  he,  sure  of  his  paternity. 

"On  my  honor,  I  give  it  up!"  said  Madame  Marneffe. 
"  If  I  am  expected  to  extract  my  friends'  woes  as  you  pull  the 
cork  out  of  a  bottle  of  Bordeaux,  I  let  it  alone.  Go  away, 
you  bore  me." 

"It  is  nothing,"  said  Crevel.  "I  must  find  two  hundred 
thousand  francs  in  two  hours." 

"  Oh,  you  can  easily  get  them.  I  have  not  spent  the  fifty 
thousand  francs  we  got  out  of  Hulot  for  that  report,  and  I 
can  ask  Henri  for  fifty  thousand " 

"Henri — it  is  always  Henri !  "  exclaimed  Crevel. 

"  And  do  you  suppose,  you  great  baby  of  a  Machiavelli, 
that  I  will  cast  off  Henri?  Would  France  disarm  her  fleet? 
Henri !  why,  he  is  a  dagger  in  a  sheath  hanging  to  a  nail. 
That  boy  serves  as  a  weather-glass  to  show  me  if  you  love  me 
— and  you  don't  love  me  this  morning." 

"I  don't  love  you,  Valerie?"  cried  Crevel.  "I  love  you 
as  much  as  a  million." 

"That  is  not  nearly  enough  !  "  cried  she,  jumping  on  to 
Crevel's  knee,  and  throwing  both  arms  round  his  neck  as  if 
it  were  a  peg  to  hang  on  by.  "  I  want  to  be  loved  as  much 
as  ten  millions,  as  much  as  all  the  gold  in  the  world,  and 
more  to  that.  Henri  would  never  wait  a  minute  before  telling 
me  all  he  had  on  his  mind.  What  is  it,  my  great  pet  ?  Have 
it  out.  Make  a  clean  breast  of  it  to  your  own  little  dar- 
ling !  " 


532  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

And  she  swept  her  hair  over  Crevel's  face,  while  she  jest- 
ingly pulled  his  nose. 

"Can  a  man  with  a  nose  like  that,"  she  went  on,  "have 
any  secrets  from  his  Vava — lele — ririe?^^ 

And  at  Vava  she  tweaked  his  nose  to  the  right ;  at  Uli  it 
went  to  the  left ;  at  ririe  she  nipped  it  straight  again. 

"  Well,  I  have  just  seen "     Crevel  stopped  and  looked 

at  Madame  Marneffe. 

**  Valerie,  my  treasure,  promise  me  on  your  honor — ours, 
you  know? — not  to  repeat  a  single  word  of  what  I  tell 
you." 

"  Of  course,  mayor,  we  know  all  about  that.  One  hand  up 
— so — and  one  foot — so  !  "  And  she  put  herself  in  an  atti- 
tude which,  to  use  Rabelais'  phrase,  stripped  Crevel  bare  from 
his  brain  to  his  heels,  so  quaint  and  delicious  was  the  nudity 
revealed  through  the  light  film  of  lawn. 

"I  have  just  seen  virtue  in  despair." 

**  Can  despair  possess  virtue?"  said  she,  nodding  gravely 
and  crossing  her  arms  like  Napoleon. 

"It  is  poor  Madame  Hulot.  She  wants  two  hundred  thou- 
sand francs,  or  else  Marshal  Hulot  and  old  Johann  Fischer 
will  blow  their  brains  out ;  and  as  you,  my  little  duchess,  are 
partly  at  the  bottom  of  the  mischief,  I  am  going  to  patch 
matters  up.  She  is  a  saintly  creature,  I  know  her  well ;  she 
will  repay  you  every  penny." 

At  the  name  of  Hulot,  at  the  words  two  hundred  thousand 
francs,  a  gleam  from  Valerie's  eyes  flashed  from  between  her 
long  eyelids  like  the  flame  of  a  cannon  through  the  smoke. 

"  What  did  the  old  thing  do  to  move  you  to  compassion  ? 
Did  she  show  you  her — what?     Her — her  religion?" 

"  Do  not  make  game  of  her,  sweetheart ;  she  is  a  very 
saintly  and  very  noble  and  pious  woman,  worthy  of  all  re- 
spect." 

"Am  I  not  worthy  of  respect  then,  eh?  "  answered  Valerie, 
with  a  threatening  gaze  at  Crevel. 


COUSIN  BETTY.  333 

"I  never  said  so,"  replied  he,  understanding  that  the  praise 
of  virtue  might  not  be  gratifying  to  Madame  Marneffe. 

"I  am  pious  too,"  Valerie  went  on,  taking  her  seat  in  an 
armchair ;  "  but  I  do  not  make  a  trade  of  my  religion.  I  go 
to  church  in  secret." 

She  sat  in  silence,  and  paid  no  further  heed  to  Crevel.  He, 
extremely  ill  at  ease,  came  to  stand  in  front  of  the  chair  into 
which  Valerie  had  thrown  herself,  and  saw  her  lost  in  the 
reflections  he  had  been  so  foolish  as  to  suggest. 

"  Valerie,  my  little  angel !  " 

Utter  silence.  A  highly  problematical  tear  was  furtively 
dashed  away. 

"One  word,  my  little  pet?" 

"  Monsieur  !  " 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of,  my  darling?" 

"Oh,  Monsieur  Crevel,  I  was  thinking  of  the  day  of  my 
first  communion !  How  pretty  I  was !  How  pure,  how 
saintly  ! — immaculate  !  Oh  !  if  any  one  had  come  to  my 
mother  and  said :  *  Your  daughter  will  be  a  hussy,  and  un- 
faithful to  her  husband  ;  one  day  a  police-officer  .will  find  her 
in  a  disreputable  house ;  she  will  sell  herself  to  a  Crevel  to 

cheat  a  Hulot — two  horrible  old  men '     Poof!  horrors! 

— she  would  have  died  before  the  end  of  the  sentence,  she 
was  so  fond  of  me,  poor  dear ! " 

"Nay,  be  calm."  *- 

"You  cannot  think  how  well  a  woman  must  love  a  man 
before  she  can  silence  the  remorse  that  gnaws  at  the  heart  of 
an  adulterous  wife.  I  am  quite  sorry  that  Reine  is  not  here ; 
she  would  have  told  you  that  she  found  me  this  morning 
praying  with  tears  in  my  eyes.  I,  Monsieur  Crevel,  for  my 
part,  do  not  make  a  mockery  of  religion.  Have  you  ever 
heard  me  say  a  word  I  ought  not  on  such  a  subject  ? ' ' 

Crevel  shook  his  head  in  negation. 

"  I  will  never  allow  it  to  be  mentioned  in  my  presence.  I 
can  make  fun  of  anything  under  the  sun :   Kings,  politics; 


334  THE   POOR   PARENTS. 

finance,  everything  that  is  sacred  in  the  eyes  of  the  world — 
— ^judges,  matrimony,  and  love — old  men  and  maidens.  But 
the  church  and  God  !  There  I  draw  the  line.  I  know  I  am 
wicked ;  I  am  sacrificing  my  fiiture  life  to  you.  And  you 
have  no  conception  of  the  immensity  of  my  love." 

Crevel  clasped  his  hands. 

"  No,  unless  you  could  see  into  my  heart,  and  fathom  the 
depth  of  my  convictions  so  as  to  know  the  extent  of  my  sacri- 
fice !  I  feel  in  me  the  making  of  a  Magdalen.  And  see  how 
respectfully  I  treat  the  priests ;  think  of  the  gifts  I  make  to  the 
church  !  My  mother  brought  me  up  in  the  Catholic  faith, 
and  I  know  what  is  meant  by  God  !  It  is  to  sinners  like  us 
that  His  voice  is  most  awful." 

Valerie  wiped  away  two  tears  that  trickled  down  her  cheeks. 
Crevel  was  in  dismay.  Madame  MarnefFe  stood  up  in  her 
excitement. 

"  Be  calm,  my  treasure — you  alarm  me  !  " 

Madame  Marneffe  fell  on  her  knees. 

"Dear  heaven!  I  am  not  bad  all  through!"  she  cried, 
clasping  her  hands.  "  Vouchsafe  to  rescue  Thy  wandering 
lamb,  strike  her,  crush  her,  snatch  her  from  foul  and  adulterous 
hands,  and  how  gladly  she  will  nestle  on  Thy  shoulder  !  How 
willingly  she  will  return  to  the  fold  !  " 

She  got  up  and  looked  at  Crevel ;  her  colorless  eyes  fright- 
ened him. 

"Yes,  Crevel,  and,  do  you  know?  I,  too,  am  frightened 
sometimes.  The  justice  of  God  is  exerted  in  this  nether  world 
as  well  as  in  the  next.  What  mercy  can  I  expect  at  God's 
hands?  His  vengeance  overtakes  the  guilty  in  many  ways;  it 
assumes  every  aspect  of  disaster.  That  was  what  my  mother 
told  me  on  her  death-bed,  speaking  of  her  own  old  age.  But 
if  I  should  lose  you,"  she  added,  hugging  Crevel  with  a  sort 
of  savage  frenzy — "  oh  !  I  should  die  !  " 

Madame  Marneffe  released  Crevel,  knelt  down  again  at  the 
armchair,  folded  her  hands — and  in  what  a  bewitching  atti- 


COUSIN  BETTY.  335 

tude !  and  with  incredible  fervor  poured  out  the  following 
prayer : 

"And  thou,  Saint  Valeric,  my  patron  saint,  why  dost  thou 
so  rarely  visit  the  pillow  of  her  who  was  intrusted  to  thy  care? 
Oh,  come  this  evening,  as  thou  didst  this  morning,  to  inspire 
me  with  holy  thoughts,  and  I  will  quit  the  path  of  sin ;  like 
the  Magdalen,  I  will  give  up  deluding  joys  and  the  false  glitter 
of  the  world,  even  the  man  I  love  so  well ' ' 

**  My  precious  duck  !  " 

"No  more  of  the  'precious  duck,'  monsieur!"  said  she, 
turning  round  like  a  virtuous  wife,  her  eyes  full  of  tears,  but 
dignified,  cold,  and  indifferent. 

"  Leave  me,"  she  went  on,  pushing  him  from  her.  "  What 
is  my  duty?  To  belong  wholly  to  my  husband.  He  is  a 
dying  man,  and  what  am  I  doing?  Deceiving  him  on  the 
edge  of  the  grave.  He  believes  your  child  to  be  his.  I  will 
tell  him  the  truth,  and  begin  by  securing  his  pardon  before  I 
ask  for  God's.  We  must  part.  Good-by,  Monsieur  Crevel," 
and  she  stood  up  to  offer  him  an  icy  cold  hand.  "Good-by, 
my  friend  ;  we  shall  meet  no  more  till  we  meet  in  a  better 
world.  You  have  me  to  thank  for  some  enjoyment,  criminal 
indeed  ;  now  I  want — oh  yes,  I  shall  have  your  esteem." 

Crevel  was  weeping  bitter  tears. 

"You  great  pumpkin!"  she  exclaimed,  with  an  infernal 
peal  of  laughter.  "  That  is  how  your  pious  women  go  about 
it  to  drag  from  you  a  plum  of  two  hundred  thousand  francs. 
And  you,  who  talk  of  the  Marechal  de  Richelieu,  the  proto- 
type of  Lovelace,  you  can  be  taken  in  by  such  a  stale  trick  as 
that !  I  could  get  hundreds  of  thousands  of  francs  out  of  you 
any  day,  if  I  chose,  you  old  ninny !  Keep  your  money  !  If 
you  have  more  than  you  know  what  to  do  with,  it  is  mine.  If 
you  give  two  sous  to  that  *  respectable '  woman,  who  is  pious 
forsooth,  because  she  is  fifty-six  years  of  age,  we  shall  never 
meet  again,  and  you  may  take  her  for  your  mistress !  You 
would  come  back  to  me  next  day  bruised  all  over  from  her 


336  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

bony  caresses  and  sodden  with  her  tears,  and  sick  of  her  little 
barmaid's  caps  and  her  whimpering,  which  must  turn  her 
favors  into  showers " 

**  In  point  of  fact,"  said  Crevel,  "two  hundred  thousand 
francs  is  a  round  sum  of  money. ' ' 

"They  have  fine  appetites,  have  the  goody  sort!  By  the 
poker !  they  sell  their  sermons  dearer  than  we  sell  the  rarest 
and  realest  thing  on  earth — pleasure.  And  they  can  spin  a 
yarn !  There,  I  know  them.  I  have  seen  plenty  in  my 
mother's  house.     They  think  everything  is  allowable  for  the 

church  and  for Really,  my  dear  love,  you  ought  to  be 

ashamed  of  yourself — for  you  are  not  so  open-handed  !  You 
have  not  given  me  two  hundred  thousand  francs  all  told  !  " 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Crevel,  "  your  little  house  will  cost  as  much 
as  that." 

"Then  you  have  four  hundred  thousand  francs?"  said  she 
thoughtfully. 

"No." 

"Then,  sir,  you  meant  to  lend  that  old  horror  the  two 
hundred  thousand  francs  due  for  ray  hotel  ?  What  a  crime, 
what  high  treason  !  " 

"Only  listen  to  me." 

"If  you  were  giving  the  money  to  some  idiotic  philan- 
thropic scheme,  you  would  be  regarded  as  a  coming  man," 
she  went  on,  with  increasing  eagerness,  "and  I  should  be  the 
first  to  advise  it ;  for  you  are  too  simple  to  write  a  big  political 
book  that  might  make  you  famous ;  as  for  style,  you  have  not 
enough  to  butter  a  pamphlet ;  but  you  might  do  as  other  men 
do  who  are  in  your  predicament,  and  who  get  a  halo  of  glory 
about  their  name  by  putting  it  at  the  top  of  some  social,  or 
moral,  or  general,  or  national  enterprise.  Benevolence  is  out 
of  date,  quite  vulgar.  Providing  for  old  offenders,  and  making 
them  more  comfortable  than  the  poor  devils  who  are  honest, 
is  played  out.  What  I  should  like  to  see  is  some  invention 
of  your  own  with  an  endowment  of  two  hundred  thousand 


COUSIN  BETTY.  337 

francs — something  difficult  and  really  useful.  Then  you  would 
be  talked  about  as  a  man  of  mark,  a  Montyon,  and  I  should 
be  very  proud  of  you  ! 

"But  as  to  throwing  two  hundred  thousand  francs  into  a  holy- 
water  shell,  or  lending  them  to  a  bigot — cast  off  by  her  hus- 
band, and  who  knows  why?  there  is  always  some  reason :  does 
any  one  cast  me  off,  I  ask  you  ? — is  a  piece  of  idiocy  which 
in  our  days  could  only  come  into  the  head  of  a  retired  per- 
fumer. It  reeks  of  the  counter.  You  would  not  dare  look  at 
yourself  in  the  glass  two  days  after. 

"  Go  and  pay  the  money  in  where  it  will  be  safe — run,  fly; 
I  will  not  admit  you  again  without  the  receipt  in  your  hand. 
Go,  as  fast  and  as  soon  as  you  can  !  " 

She  pushed  Crevel  out  of  the  room  by  the  shoulders,  seeing 
avarice  blossoming  in  his  face  once  more.  When  she  heard 
the  outer  door  shut,  she  exclaimed — 

"  Then  Lisbeth  is  revenged  over  and  over  again  !  What  a 
pity  that  she  is  at  her  old  marshal's  now  !  We  would  have  had 
a  good  laugh  !  So  the  old  woman  wants  to  take  the  bread  out 
of  my  mouth.     I  will  startle  her  a  little  !  " 

Marshal  Hulot,  being  obliged  to  live  in  a  style  suited  to  the 
highest  military  rank,  had  taken  a  handsome  house  in  the  Rue 
du  Mont-Parnasse,  where  there  are  three  or  four  princely  resi- 
dences. Though  he  rented  the  whole  house,  he  inhabited 
only  the  first  floor.  When  Lisbeth  went  to  keep  house  for 
him,  she  at  once  wished  to  sub-let  the  second  floor,  which,  as 
she  said,  would  pay  the  whole  rent,  so  that  the  count  would 
live  almost  rent-free ;  but  the  old  soldier  would  not  hear  of  it. 

For  some  months  past  the  marshal  had  had  many  sad 
thoughts.  He  had  guessed  how  miserably  poor  his  sister-in- 
law  was,  and  suspected  her  griefs  without  understanding  their 
cause.  The  old  man,  so  cheerful  in  his  deafness,  became  taci- 
turn ;  he  could  not  help  thinking  that  his  house  would  one  day 
be  a  refuge  for  the  baroness  and  her  daughter ;  and  it  was  for 
22 


8S8  THE  POOR  PARENTS, 

them  that  he  kept  the  second  floor.  The  smallness  of  his  for- 
tune was  so  well  known  at  headquarters,  that  the  war  min- 
ister, the  Prince  de  Wissembourg,  begged  his  old  comrade  to 
accept  a  sum  of  money  for  his  household  expenses.  This  sum 
the  marshal  spent  in  furnishing  the  first  floor,  which  was  in 
every  way  suitable ;  for,  as  he  said,  he  would  not  accept  the 
marshal's  baton  to  walk  the  streets  with  it. 

The  house  had  belonged  to  a  senator  under  the  Empire,  and 
the  first-floor  drawing-rooms  had  been  very  magnificently  fitted 
with  carved  wood,  white-and-gold,  still  in  very  good  preserva- 
tion. The  marshal  had  found  some  good  old  furniture  in  the 
same  style ;  in  the  coach-house  he  had  a  carriage  with  two 
batons  in  saltire  on  the  panels ;  and  when  he  was  expected  to 
appear  in  full  fig,  at  the  minister's,  at  the  Tuileries,  for  some 
ceremony  or  high  festival,  he  hired  horses  for  the  job. 

His  servant  for  more  than  thirty  years  was  an  old  soldier  of 
sixty,  whose  sister  was  the  cook,  so  he  had  saved  ten  thousand 
francs,  adding  it  by  degrees  to  a  little  hoard  he  intended  for 
Hortense.  Every  day  the  old  man  walked  along  the  boule- 
vard, from  the  Rue  du  Mont-Parnasse  to  the  Rue  Plumet ;  and 
every  pensioner  as  he  passed  stood  at  attention,  without  fail, 
to  salute  him  :  then  the  marshal  rewarded  the  veteran  with  a 
smile. 

'*  Who  is  the  man  you  always  stand  at  attention  to  salute  ?  " 
said  a  young  workman  one  day  to  an  old  captain  and  pen- 
sioner. 

"I  will  tell  you,  boy,"  replied  the  officer. 

The  "  boy"  stood  resigned,  as  a  man  does  to  listen  to  an 
old  gossip. 

"In  1809,"  said  the  captain,  "  we  were  covering  the  flank  of 
the  main  army,  marching  on  Vienna  under  the  Emperor's  com- 
mand. We  came  to  a  bridge  defended  by  three  batteries  of  can- 
non, one  above  another,  on  a  sort  of  cliff;  three  redoubts  like 
three  shelves,  and  commanding  the  bridge.  We  were  under 
Marshal  Massena.     That  man  whom  you  see  there  was  colonel 


COUSIN  BETTY.  339 

of  the  Grenadier  Guards,  and  I  was  one  of  them.  Our  columns 
held  one  bank  of  the  river,  the  batteries  were  on  the  other. 
Three  times  they  tried  for  the  bridge,  and  three  times  they 
were  driven  back.  '  Go  and  find  Hulot ! '  said  the  mar- 
shal ;  *  nobody  but  he  and  his  men  can  bolt  that  morsel. ' 
So  we  came.  The  general,  who  was  just  retiring  from  the 
bridge,  stopped  Hulot  under  fire,  clogging  the  way,  to  tell 
him  how  to  do  it.  *  I  don't  want  advice,  but  room  to  pass,' 
said  our  general  coolly,  marching  across  at  the  head  of  his 
men.     And  then,  rattle,  thirty  guns  raking  us  at  once." 

'•'By  heaven!"  cried  the  workman,  "that  accounts  for 
some  of  these  crutches  !  " 

"And  if  you,  like  me,  my  boy,  had  heard  those  words  so 
quietly  spoken,  you  would  bow  before  that  man  down  to  the 
ground  !  It  is  not  so  famous  as  Arcole,  but  perhaps  it  was 
finer.  We  followed  Hulot  at  the  double,  right  up  to  those 
batteries.  All  honor  to  those  we  left  there!  "  and  the  old 
man  lifted  his  hat.  "  The  Austrains  were  amazed  at  the  dash 
of  it.  The  Emperor  made  the  man  you  saw  a  count;  he 
honored  us  all  by  honoring  our  leader ;  and  the  King  of  to- 
day was  very  right  to  make  him  a  marshal." 

"  Hurrah  for  the  marshal !  "  cried  the  workman. 

"  Oh,  you  may  shout — shout  away  !  The  marshal  is  as  deaf 
as  a  post  from  the  roar  of  those  cannon." 

This  anecdote  may  give  some  idea  of  the  respect  with  which 
the  "Invalides"  regarded  Marshal  Hulot,  whose  Republican 
proclivities  secured  him  the  popular  sympathy  of  the  whole 
quarter  of  the  town. 

Sorrow  taking  hold  on  a  spirit  so  calm  and  strict  and  noble 
was  a  heart-breaking  spectacle.  The  baroness  could  only  tell 
lies,  with  a  woman's  ingenuity,  to  conceal  the  whole  dreadful 
truth  from  her  brother-in-law. 

In  the  course  of  this  miserable  morning,  the  marshal,  who, 
like  all  old  men,  slept  but  little,  had  extracted  from  Lisbeth  full 
particulars  as  to  his  brother's  situation,  promising  to  marry 


840  THE  POOR   PARENTS. 

her  as  the  reward  of  her  revelations.  Any  one  can  imagine 
with  what  glee  the  old  maid  allowed  the  secrets  to  be  dragged 
from  her  which  she  had  been  dying  to  tell  ever  since  she  had 
come  into  the  house  ;  for  by  this  means  she  made  her  marriage 
more  certain. 

"Your  brother  is  incorrigible  !  "  Lisbeth  shouted  into  the 
marshal's  best  ear. 

Her  strong,  clear  tones  enabled  her  to  talk  to  him,  but  she 
wore  out  her  lungs,  so  anxious  was  she  to  prove  to  her  future 
husband  that  to  her  he  would  never  be  deaf. 

"  He  has  had  three  mistresses,"  said  the  old  man,  "  and  his 
wife  was  an  Adeline  !     Poor  Adeline  !  " 

"  If  you  will  take  my  advice,"  shrieked  Lisbeth,  "  you  will 
use  your  influence  with  the  Prince  de  Wissembourg  to  secure 
her  some  suitable  appointment.  She  will  need  it,  for  the 
baron's  pay  is  pledged  for  three  years." 

"  I  will  go  to  the  War  Office,"  said  he,  "  and  see  the  prince, 
to  find  out  what  he  thinks  of  my  .brother,  and  ask  for  his 
interest  to  help  my  sister.  Think  of  some  place  that  is  fit  for 
her." 

"The  charitable  ladies  of  Paris,  in  concert  with  the  arch- 
bishop, have  formed  various  beneficent  associations;  they 
employ  superintendents,  very  decently  paid,  whose  business  it 
is  to  seek  out  cases  of  real  want.  Such  an  occupation  would 
exactly  suit  dear  Adeline ;  it  would  be  work  after  her  own 
heart." 

"  Send  to  order  the  horses,"  said  the  marshal.  "  I  will  go 
and  dress.     I  will  drive  to  Neuilly  if  necessary." 

"  How  fond  he  is  of  her !  She  will  always  cross  my  path 
wherever  I  turn  !  "  said  Lisbeth  to  herself. 

Lisbeth  was  already  supreme  in  the  house,  but  not  with  the 
marshal's  cognizance.  She  had  struck  terror  into  the  three 
servants — for  she  had  allowed  herself  a  housemaid,  and  she 
exerted  her  old-maidish  energy  in  taking  stock  of  everything, 
examining  everything,  and  arranging  in  every  respect  for  the 


COUSIN  BETTY.  341 

comfort  of  her  dear  marshal.  Lisbeth,  quite  as  Republican  as 
he  could  be,  pleased  him  by  her  democratic  opinions,  and  she 
flattered  him  with  amazing  dexterity ;  for  the  last  fortnight 
the  old  man,  whose  house  was  better  kept,  and  who  was  cared 
for  as  a  child  is  by  its  mother,  had  begun  to  regard  Betty  as 
in  part  the  realization  of  what  he  had  dreamed. 

"My  dear  marshal,"  she  shouted,  following  him  out  on  to 
the  steps,  "  pull  up  the  windows,  do  not  sit  in  a  draught,  to 
oblige  me  !  " 

The  marshal,  who  had  never  been  so  cosseted  in  his  life, 
went  off  smiling  at  Lisbeth,  though  his  heart  was  aching. 

At  the  same  hour  Baron  Hulot  was  quitting  the  War  Ofice 
to  call  on  his  chief,  Marshal  the  Prince  de  Wissembourg,  who 
had  sent  for  him.  Though  there  was  nothing  extraordinary 
in  one  of  the  generals  on  the  Board  being  sent  for,  Hulot's 
conscience  was  so  uneasy  that  he  fancied  he  saw  a  cold  and 
sinister  expression  in  Mitouflet's  face. 

"  Mitouflet,  how  is  the  prince?"  he  asked,  locking  the 
door  of  his  private  room  and  following  the  messenger  who  led 
the  way. 

"  He  must  have  a  crow  to  pluck  with  you,  Monsieur  le 
Baron,"  replied  the  man,  "  for  his  face  is  set  at  stormy." 

Hulot  turned  pale,  and  said  no  more  ;  he  crossed  the  ante- 
room and  reception-rooms,  and  with  a  violently  beating  heart 
found  himself  at  the  door  of  the  prince's  private  study. 

The  chief,  at  this  time  seventy  years  old,  with  perfectly 
white  hair,  and  the  tanned  complexion  of  a  soldier  of  that 
age,  commanded  attention  by  a  brow  so  vast  that  imagination 
saw  in  it  a  field  of  battle.  Under  this  dome,  crowned  with 
snow,  sparkled  a  pair  of  eyes,  of  the  Napoleon  blue,  usually 
sad-looking  and  full  of  bitter  thoughts  and  regrets,  their  fire 
overshadowed  by  the  penthouse  of  the  strongly  projecting 
brow.  This  man,  Bernadotte's  rival,  had  hoped  to  find  his 
seat  on  a  throne.  But  those  eyes  could  flash  formidable 
lightnings  when  they  expressed  strong  feeling. 


342  THE  POOR  PARENTS 

Then,  his  voice,  always  somewhat  hollow,  rang  with  strident 
tones.  When  he  was  angry,  the  prince  was  a  soldier  once 
more  ;  he  spoke  the  language  of  Lieutenant  Cottin  ;  he  spared 
nothing — nobody.  Hulot  d'Ervy  found  the  old  lion,  his  hair 
shaggy  like  a  mane,  standing  by  the  fireplace,  his  brows  knit, 
his  back  against  the  mantel,  and  his  eyes  apparently  fixed  on 
vacancy. 

"  Here  !  At  your  orders,  prince  !  "  said  Hulot,  affecting 
a  graceful  ease  of  manner. 

The  marshal  looked  hard  at  the  baron,  without  saying  a 
word,  during  the  time  it  took  him  to  come  from  the  door 
to  within  a  few  steps  of  where  the  chief  stood.  This  leaden 
stare  was  like  the  eye  of  God  ;  Hulot  could  not  meet  it ;  he 
looked  down  in  confusion. 

*'  He  knows  everything  !  "  said  he  to  himself. 

"  Does  your  conscience  tell  you  nothing  ?  "  asked  the  mar- 
shal, in  his  deep,  hollow  tones. 

**  It  tells  me,  sir,  that  I  have  been  wrong,  no  doubt,  in  or- 
dering razzias  (raids)  in  Algeria  without  referring  the  matter 
to  you.  At  my  age,  and  with  ray  tastes,  after  forty-five  years 
of  service,  I  have  no  fortune.  You  know  the  principles  of  the 
four  hundred  elect  representatives  of  France.  Those  gentle- 
men are  envious  of  every  distinction  ;  they  have  pared  down 
even  the  ministers*  pay — that  says  everything  !  Ask  them  for 
money  for  an  old  servant  !  What  can  you  expect  of  men  who 
pay  a  whole  class  so  badly  as  they  pay  the  Government  legal 
officials  ? — who  give  thirty  sous  a  day  to  the  laborers  on  the 
works  at  Toulon,  when  it  is  a  physical  impossibility  to  live 
there  and  keep  a  family  on  less  than  forty  sous  ? — who  never 
think  of  the  atrocity  of  giving  salaries  of  six  hundred  francs, 
up  to  a  thousand  or  twelve  hundred  perhaps,  to  clerks  living 
in  Paris ;  and  who  want  to  secure  our  places  for  themselves  as 
soon  as  the  pay  rises  to  forty  thousand  ? — who,  finally,  refuse 
to  restore  to  the  Crown  a  piece  of  Crown  property  confiscated 
from  the  Crown  in  1830 — property  acquired,  too,  by  Louig 


COUSIN  BETTY.  343 

XVI.  out  of  his  privy  purse  !  If  you  had  no  private  fortune, 
prince,  you  would  be  left  high  and  dry,  like  my  brother,  with 
your  pay  and  not  another  sou,  and  no  thought  of  your  having 
saved  the  army,  and  me  with  it,  in  the  swampy  plains  of 
Poland." 

"You  have  robbed  the  State!  You  have  made  yourself 
liable  to  be  brought  before  the  criminal  bench,"  said  the 
marshal,  "  like  that  clerk  of  the  Treasury  !  And  you  take  this, 
monsieur,  with  such  levity." 

"  But  there  is  a  great  difference,  monseigneur  !  "  cried  the 
baron.  *'  Have  I  dipped  my  hands  into  a  cash-box  intrusted 
to  my  care?  " 

**  When  a  man  of  your  rank  commits  such  an  infamous 
crime,"  said  the  marshal,  "he  is  doubly  guilty  if  he  does  it 
clumsily.  You  have  compromised  the  honor  of  our  official 
administration,  which  hitherto  has  been  the  purest  in  Europe  ! 
And  all  for  two  hundred  thousand  francs  and  a  wanton  !  **  said 
the  marshal,  in  a  terrible  voice.  ^^You  are  a  councilor  of 
State — but  a  private  soldier  who  sells  anything  belonging  to 
his  regiment  is  punished  with  death  !  Here  is  a  story  told 
me  one  day  by  Colonel  Pourin  of  the  Second  Lancers.  At 
Saverne,  one  of  his  men  fell  in  love  with  a  little  Alsatian 
girl  who  had  a  fancy  for  a  shawl.  The  jade  teased  this  poor 
devil  of  a  lancer  so  effectually,  that  though  he  could  show 
twenty  years'  service,  and  was  about  to  be  promoted  to  be 
quartermaster — the  pride  of  the  regiment — to  buy  this  shawl 
he  sold  some  of  his  company's  kit.  Do  you  know  what 
this  lancer  did.  Baron  d'Ervy  ?  He  swallowed  some  window- 
glass  after  pounding  it  down,  and  died  in  eleven  hours,  of 
an  illness,  in  hospital.  Try,  if  you  please,  to  die  of  apo- 
plexy, that  we  may  not  see  you  dishonored." 

Hulot  looked  with  haggard  eyes  at  the  old  warrior ;  and 
the  prince,  reading  the  look  which  betrayed  the  coward, 
felt  a  flush  rise  to  his  cheeks ;  his  eyes  flamed. 

"Will  you,  sir,  abandon  me?"  Hulot  stammered. 


344  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

Marshal  Hulot,  hearing  that  only  his  brother  was  with  the 
Minister,  ventured  at  this  juncture  to  come  in,  and,  like 
all  deaf  people,  went  straight  up  to  the  prince. 

"Oh,"  cried  the  hero  of  Poland,  "I  know  what  you  are 
here  for,  my  old  friend  !     But  we  can  do  nothing." 

"Do  nothing?"  echoed  Marshal  Hulot,  who  had  heard 
only  the  last  word. 

"  Nothing ;  you  have  come  to  intercede  for  your  brother. 
But  do  you  know  what  your  brother  is  ?  " 

"  My  brother?"  asked  the  deaf  man. 

"Yes,  he  is  a  damned,  infernal  blackguard,  and  unworthy 
of  you." 

The  marshal  in  his  rage  shot  from  his  eyes  those  fulminat- 
ing fires  which,  like  Napoleon's,  broke  a  man's  will  and 
judgment. 

"You  lie,  Cottin  !  "  said  Marshal  Hulot,  turning  white. 
"  Throw  down  your  baton  as  I  throw  mine  !     I  am  ready." 

The  prince  went  up  to  his  old  comrade,  looked  him  in  the 
face,  and  shouted  in  his  ear  as  h        xsped  his  hand — 

"Are  you  a  man  ?  " 

"  You  will  see  that  I  am." 

"Well,  then,  pull  yourself  together!  You  must  face  the 
worst  misfortune  that  can  befall  you." 

The  prince  turned  round,  took  some  papers  from  the  table, 
and  placed  them  in  the  marshal's  hands,  saying,  "Read  that." 

The  Comte  de  Forzheim  read  the  following  letter,  which 
lay  uppermost : 

"  {Private  and  ConfideniiaL^ 

*'  To  His  Excellency  the  President  of  the  Council, 

"  Algiers. 

"  My  dear  Prince  : — We  have  a  very  ugly  business  on  our 
hands,  as  you  will  see  by  the  accompanying  documents. 

"The  story,  briefly  told,  is  this:  Baron  Hulot  d'Ervy  sent 


COUSIN  BETTY.  345 

out  to  the  province  of  Oran  an  uncle  of  his  as  a  broker  in 
grain  and  forage,  and  gave  him  an  accomplice  in  the  person 
of  a  storekeeper.  This  storekeeper,  to  curry  favor,  has  made 
a  confession,  and  finally  made  his  escape.  The  Public  Prose- 
cutor took  the  matter  up  very  thoroughly,  seeing,  as  he  sup- 
posed, that  only  two  inferior  agents  were  implicated ;  but 
Johann  Fischer,  uncle  to  your  Chief  of  the  Commissariat  De- 
partment, finding  that  he  was  to  be  brought  up  at  the  Police 
Court,  stabbed  himself  in  prison  with  a  nail. 

"  That  would  have  been  the  end  of  the  matter  if  this  worthy 
and  honest  man,  deceived,  it  would  seem,  by  his  agent  and 
by  his  nephew,  had  not  thought  proper  to  write  to  Baron 
Hulot.  This  letter,  seized  as  a  document,  so  greatly  surprised 
the  Public  Prosecutor,  that  he  came  to  see  me.  Now,  the 
arrest  and  public  trial  of  a  Councilor  of  State  would  be  such 
a  terrible  thing — of  a  man  high  in  office  too,  who  has  a  good 
record  for  loyal  service — for  after  the  Beresina,  it  was  he  who 
saved  us  all  by  reorganizing  the  administration — that  I  desired 
to  have  all  the  papers  sent  to  me. 

**Is  the  matter  to  take  its  course?  Now  that  the  principal 
agent  is  dead,  will  it  not  be  better  to  smother  up  the  affair 
and  sentence  the  storekeeper  in  default  ? 

"The  Public  Prosecutor  has  consented  to  my  forwarding 
the  documents  for  your  perusal ;  the  Baron  Hulot  d'Ervy, 
being  resident  in  Paris,  the  proceedings  will  lie  with  your 
Supreme  Court.  We  have  hit  on  this  rather  shabby  way  of 
ridding  ourselves  of  the  difficulty  for  the  moment. 

**  Only,  my  dear  Marshal,  decide  quickly.  This  miserable 
business  is  too  much  talked  about  already,  and  it  will  do  as 
much  harm  to  us  as  to  you  all  if  the  name  of  the  principal 
culprit — known  at  present  only  to  the  Public  Prosecutor,  the 
examining  judge,  and  myself — should  happen  to  leak  out." 

At  this  point  the  letter  fell  from  Marshal  Hulot's  hands ;  he 
looked  at  his  brother ;  he  saw  that  there  was  no  need  to  ex- 


346  THE   POOR  PARENTS. 

amine  the  evidence.      But  he  looked  for  Johann   Fischer's 
letter,  and,  after  reading  it  at  a  glance,  held  it  out  to  Hector : 

"  From  the  Prison  at  Oran. 

"  Dear  Nephew  : — When  you  read  this  letter,  I  shall  have 
ceased  to  live. 

"Be  quite  easy,  no  proof  can  be  found  to  incriminate  you. 
When  I  am  dead  and  your  Jesuit  of  a  Chardin  fled,  the  trial 
must  collapse.  The  face  of  our  Adeline,  made  so  happy  by 
you,  makes  death  easy  to  me.  Now  you  need  not  send  the 
two  hundred  thousand  francs.     Good-by. 

*'  This  letter  will  be  delivered  by  a  prisoner  for  a  short  terra 
whom  I  can  trust,  I  believe. 

"Johann  Fischer." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Marshal  Hulot  to  the  Prince 
de  Wissembourg  with  pathetic  pride. 

"Come,  come,  say  tu  (thou),  not  the  formal  vous  (jo\x),^^ 
replied  the  minister,  clasping,  his  old  friend's  hand.  "  The 
poor  lancer  killed  no  one  but  himself,"  he  added,  with  a 
thunderous  look  at  Hulot  d'Ervy. 

"  How  much  have  you  had  ?  "  said  the  Comte  de  Forzheim 
to  his  brother. 

"Two  hundred  thousand  francs." 

"  My  dear  friend,"  said  the  count,  addressing  the  minister, 
"you  shall  have  two  hundred  thousand  francs  within  forty- 
eight  hours.  It  shall  never  be  said  that  a  man  .bearing  the 
name  of  Hulot  has  wronged  the  public  treasury  of  a  single 
sou." 

"  What  nonsense  !  "  said  the  prince.  "  I  know  where  the 
money  is,  and  I  can  get  it  paid  back.  Send  in  your  resigna- 
tion and  ask  for  your  pension  !  "  he  went  on,  sending  a  double 
sheet  of  foolscap  flying  across  to  where  the  councilor  of  State 
had  sat  down  by  the  table,  for  his  legs  gave  way  under  him. 
<*  To  bring  you  to  trial  would  disgrace  us  all.     I  have  already 


COUSIN  BETTY.  347 

obtained  from  the  superior  board  their  sanction  to  this  line  of 
action.  Since  you  can  accept  life  with  dishonor — in  my 
opinion  the  last  degradation — you  will  get  the  pension  you 
have  earned.     Only  take  care  to  be  forgotten." 

The  minister  rang. 

**Is  Marneffe,  the  head-clerk,  out  there?" 

"Yes,  monseigneur. " 

"Show  him  in!" 

"You,"  said  the  minister  as  Marneffe  came  in,  "you  and 
your  wife  have  wittingly  and  intentionally  ruined  the  Baron 
d'Ervy  whom  you  see." 

"  Monsieur  le  Ministre,  I  beg  your  pardon.  We  are  very 
poor.  I  have  nothing  to  live  on  but  my  pay,  and  I  have  two 
children,  and  the  one  that  is  coming  will  have  been  brought 
into  the  family  by  Monsieur  le  Baron." 

"What  a  villain  he  looks!"  said  the  prince,  pointing  to 
Mam^e  and  addressing  Marshal  Hulot.  "  No  more  Sganarelle 
speeches,"  he  went  on  ;  "  you  will  disgorge  two  hundred  thou- 
sand francs,  or  be  packed  off  to  Algiers." 

"  But,  Monsieur  le  Ministre,  you  do  not  know  my  wife. 
She  has  spent  it  all.  Monsieur  le  Baron  asked  six  persons  to 
dinner  every  evening.  Fifty  thousand  francs  a  year  are  spent 
in  my  house." 

"Leave  the  room  !"  said  the  minister,  in  the  formidable 
tones  that  had  given  the  word  to  charge  in  battle.  "  You 
will  have  notice  of  your  transfer  within  two  hours.     Go  !  " 

"  I  prefer  to  send  in  my  resignation,"  said  Marneffe  inso- 
lently. "For  it  is  too  much  to  be  what  I  am  already,  and 
thrashed  into  the  bargain.  That  would  not  satisfy  me  at 
all." 

And  he  left  the  room. 

"What  an  impudent  scoundrel  !  "  said  the  prince. 

Marshal  Hulot,  who  had  stood  up  throughout  this  scene,  as 
pale  as  a  corpse,  studying  his  brother  out  of  the  corner  of  his 
eye,  went  up  to  the  prince  and  took  his  hand,  repeating — 


348  THE   POOR  PARENTS. 

"  In  forty-eight  hours  the  pecuniary  mischief  shall  be  re- 
paired ;  but  honor  ?  Good-by,  marshal.  It  is  the  last  shot 
that  kills.     Yes,  I  shall  die  of  it !  "  he  said  in  his  ear. 

**  What  the  devil  brought  you  here  this  morning?  "  said  the 
prince,  much  moved. 

*'  I  came  to  see  what  could  be  done  for  his  wife,"  replied 
the  count,  pointing  to  his  brother.  "  She  is  wanting  bread — 
especially  now." 

He  has  his  pension. 

"It  is  pledged." 

"The  devil  must  possess  such  a  man,"  said  the  prince,  with 
a  shrug.  "What  philtre  do  those  baggages  give  you  to  rob 
you  of  your  wits?"  he  went  on  to  Hulot  d'Ervy.  "How 
could  you — you,  who  know  the  precise  details  with  which  in 
French  offices  everything  is  written  down  at  full  length,  con- 
suming reams  of  paper  to  certify  to  the  receipt  or  outlay  of  a 
few  centimes — you,  who  have  so  often  complained  that  a  hun- 
dred signatures  are  needed  for  a  mere  trifle,  to  discharge  a 
soldier,  to  buy  a  curry-comb — how  could  you  hope  to  conceal 
a  theft  for  any  length  of  time  ?  To  say  nothing  of  the  news- 
papers, and  the  envious,  and  the  people  who  would  like  to 
steal ! — those  women  must  rob  you  of  your  comraonsense  !  Do 
they  cover  your  eyes  with  walnut-shells  ?  or  are  you  yourself 
made  of  different  stuff  from  us?  You  ought  to  have  left  the 
office  as  soon  as  you  found  that  you  were  no  longer  a  man,  but 
a  temperament.  If  you  have  complicated  your  crime  with  such 
gross  folly,  you  will  end — I  will  not  say  where " 

"  Promise  me,  Cottin,  that  you  will  do  what  you  can  for 
her,"  said  the  marshal,  who  heard  nothing,  and  was  still  think- 
ing of  his  sister-in-law. 

"  Depend  on  me  !  "  said  the  minister. 

"Thank  you,  and  good-by  then!  Come,  monsieur,"  he 
said  to  his  brother. 

The  prince  looked  with  apparent  calmness  at  the  two 
brothers,  so  different  in  their  demeanor,  conduct,  and  char- 


COUSIN  BETTY.  349 

acter — the  brave  man  and  the  coward,  the  ascetic  and  the 
profligate,  the  honest  man  and  the  peculator — and  he  said  to 
himself: 

"  That  mean  creature  will  not  have  courage  to  die  !  And 
my  poor  Hulot,  such  an  honest  fellow  !  has  death  in  his  knap- 
sack I  know  ! ' ' 

He  sat  down  again  in  his  big  chair  and  went  on  reading 
the  dispatches  from  Africa  with  a  look  characteristic  at  once 
of  the  coolness  of  a  leader  and  of  the  pity  roused  by  the  sight 
of  a  battle-field  !  For  in  reality  no  one  is  so  humane  as  a 
soldier,  stern  as  he  may  seem  in  the  icy  determination  acquired 
by  the  habit  of  fighting,  and  so  absolutely  essential  in  the 
battle-field. 

Next  morning  some  of  the  newspapers  contained,  under 
various  headings,  the  following  paragraphs : 

"  Monsieur  le  Baron  Hulot  d'Ervy  has  applied  for  his  retir- 
ing pension.  The  unsatisfactory  state  of  the  Algerian  ex- 
chequer, which  has  come  out  in  consequence  of  the  death  and 
disappearance  of  two  employes,  has  had  some  share  in  this 
distinguished  official's  decision.  On  hearing  of  the  delinquen- 
cies of  the  agents  whom  he  had  unfortunately  trusted.  Monsieur 
le  Baron  Hulot  had  a  paralytic  stroke  in  the  War  Minister's 
private  room. 

"  Monsieur  Hulot  d'Ervy,  brother  to  the  Marshal  Comte 
de  Forzheim,  has  been  forty-five  years  in  the  service.  His 
determination  has  been  vainly  opposed,  and  is  greatly  re- 
gretted by  all  who  know  Monsieur  Hulot,  whose  private 
virtues  are  as  conspicuous  as  his  administrative  capacity.  No 
one  can  have  forgotten  the  devoted  conduct  of  the  Commissary- 
General  of  the  Imperial  Guard  at  Warsaw,  or  the  marvelous 
promptitude  with  which  he  organized  supplies  for  the  various 
sections  of  the  army  so  suddenly  required  by  Napoleon  in 
1815. 


850  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

"  One  more  of  the  heroes  of  the  Empire  is  retiring  from  the 
stage.  Monsieur  le  Baron  Hulot  has  never  ceased,  since  1830, 
to  be  one  of  the  guiding  lights  of  the  State  Council  and  of  the 
War  Office." 

"Algiers. — The  case  known  as  the  forage  supply  case,  to 
which  some  of  our  contemporaries  have  given  absurd  promi- 
nence, has  been  closed  by  the  death  of  the  chief  culprit. 
Johann  Wisch  has  committed  suicide  in  his  cell ;  his  accom- 
plice, who  had  absconded,  will  be  sentenced  in  default. 

"Wisch,  formerly  an  army  contractor,  was  an  honest  man 
and  highly  respected,  who  could  not  survive  the  idea  of  hav- 
ing been  the  dupe  of  Chardin,  the  storekeeper  who  has  dis- 
appeared." 

And  in  the  "Paris  News"  the  following  paragraph  ap- 
peared : 

"Monsieur  le  Marechal  the  Minister  of  War,  to  prevent 
the  recurrence  of  such  scandals  for  the  future,  has  arranged 
for  a  regular  Commissariat  office  in  Africa.  A  head-clerk  in 
the  War  Office,  Monsieur  MarnefFe,  is  spoken  of  as  likely  to 
be  appointed  to  the  post  of  director." 

"The  office  vacated  by  Baron  Hulot  is  the  object  of  much 
ambition.  The  appointment  is  promised,  it  is  said,  to 
Monsieur  le  Comte  Martial  de  la  Roche-Hugon,  Deputy, 
brother-in-law  to  Monsieur  le  Comte  de  Rastignac.  Monsieur 
Massol,  Master  of  Appeals,  will  fill  his  seat  on  the  Council 
of  State,  and  Monsieur  Claud  Vignon  becomes  Master  of 
Appeals." 

Of  all  kinds  of  false  gossip,  the  most  dangerous  for  the 
Opposition  newspapers  is  the  official  bogus  paragraph.  How- 
ever keen  journalists  may  be,  they  are  sometimes  the  volun- 


THERE    IS    YOUR    REMEDY.' 


COUSIN  BETTY.  361 

tary  or  involuntary  dupes  of  the  cleverness  of  those  who  have 
risen  from  the  ranks  of  the  Press,  like  Claud  Vignon,  to  the 
higher  realms  of  power.  The  newspaper  can  only  be  circum- 
vented by  the  journalist.  It  may  be  said,  as  a  parody  on  a 
line  by  Voltaire — "The  Paris  news  is  never  what  the  foolish 
folk  believe." 

Marshal  Hulot  drove  home  with  his  brother,  who  took 
the  front  seat,  respectfully  leaving  the  whole  of  the  back  of 
the  carriage  to  his  senior.  The  two  men  spoke  not  a  sin- 
gle word.  Hector  was  helpless.  The  marshal  was  lost  in 
thought,  like  a  man  who  is  collecting  all  his  strength,  and 
bracing  himself  to  bear  a  crushing  weight.  On  arriving  at  his 
own  house,  still  without  speaking,  but  by  an  imperious  gesture, 
he  beckoned  his  brother  into  his  study.  The  count  had  re- 
ceived from  the  Emperor  Napoleon  a  splendid  pair  of  pistols 
from  the  Versailles  factory ;  he  took  the  box,  with  its  inscrip- 
tion :  Given  by  the  Emperor  Napoleon  to  General  Hulot, 
out  of  his  desk,  and  placing  it  on  the  top,  he  showed  it  to  his 
brother,  saying:  "There  is  your  remedy." 

Lisbeth,  peeping  through  the  chink  of  the  door,  flew  down 
to  the  carriage  and  ordered  the  coachman  to  go  as  fast  as  he 
could  gallop  to  the  Rue  Plumet.  Within  about  twenty 
minutes  she  had  brought  back  Adeline,  whom  she  had  told  of 
the  marshal's  threat  to  his  brother. 

The  marshal,  without  looking  at  Hector,  rang  the  bell  for 
his  factotum,  the  old  soldier  who  had  served  him  for  thirty 
years. 

"  Beau-Pied,"  said  he,  "  fetch  my  notary,  and  Count  Stein- 
bock,  and  my  niece  Hortense,  and  the  stockbroker  to  the 
Treasury.  It  is  now  half-past  ten ;  they  must  all  be  here 
by  twelve.  Take  hackney-coaches — and  go  faster  than  thai/** 
he  added,  a  republican  allusion  which  in  past  days  had  been 
often  on  his  lips.  And  he  put  on  the  scowl  that  had  brought 
his  soldiers  to  attention  when  he  was  beating  the  broom  on 
the  heaths  of  Brittany  in  1799.     (See  '*'  Les  Chouans.") 


352  THE  POOR   PARENTS. 

"You  shall  be  obeyed,  mar^chal,"  said  Beau-Pied,  with  a 
military  salute. 

Still  paying  no  heed  to  his  brother,  the  old  man  came  back 
into  his  study,  took  .a  key  out  of  his  desk,  and  opened  a  little 
malachite  box  mounted  in  steel,  the  gift  of  the  Emperor 
Alexander. 

By  Napoleon's  orders  he  had  gone  to  restore  to  the  Russian 
Emperor  the  private  property  seized  at  the  battle  of  Dresden, 
in  exchange  for  which  Napoleon  hoped  to  get  back  Van- 
damme.  The  Czar  rewarded  General  Hulot  very  handsomely, 
giving  him  this  casket,  and  saying  that  he  hoped  one  day  to 
show  the  same  courtesy  to  the  Emperor  of  the  French ;  but  he 
kept  Vandamme.  The  Imperial  arms  of  Russia  were  displayed 
in  gold  on  the  lid  of  the  box,  which  was  inlaid  with  gold. 

The  marshal  counted  the  bank-notes  it  contained ;  he  had  a 
hundred  and  fifty-two  thousand  francs.  He  saw  this  with 
satisfaction.  At  the  same  moment  Madame  Hulot  came  into 
the  room  in  a  state  to  touch  the  heart  of  the  sternest  judge. 
She  flew  into  Hector's  arms,  looking  alternately  with  a  crazy 
eye  at  the  marshal  and  at  the  case  of  pistols. 

"What  have  you  to  say  against  your  brother?  What  has 
my  husband  done  to  you?  "  said  she,  in  such  a  voice  that  the 
marshal  heard  her. 

"  He  has  disgraced  us  all !  "  replied  the  Republican  veteran, 
who  spoke  with  a  vehemence  that  reopened  one  of  his  old 
wounds.  "  He  has  robbed  the  Government !  He  has  cast 
odium  on  my  name,  he  makes  me  wish  I  were  dead — he  has 
killed  me  !  I  have  only  strength  enough  left  to  make  restitu- 
tion ! 

"I  have  been  abased  before  the  Conde  of  the  Republic, 
the  man  I  esteem  above  all  others,  and  to  whom  I  unjustifiably 
gave  the  lie — the  Prince  de  Wissembourg  !  Is  that  nothing? 
That  is  the  score  his  country  has  against  him  !  " 

He  wiped  away  a  tear. 

"  Now,  as  to  his  family,"  he  went  on.     "  He  is  robbing 


COUSIN  BETTY.  353 

you  of  the  bread  I  had  saved  for  you,  the  fruit  of  thirty  years' 
economy,  of  the  privations  of  an  old  soldier !  Here  is  what 
was  intended  for  you,"  and  he  held  up  the  bank-notes.  "  He 
has  killed  his  Uncle  Fischer,  a  noble  and  worthy  son  of 
Alsace  who  could  not — as  he  can — endure  the  thought  of  a 
stain  on  his  peasant  honor. 

*'  To  crown  all,  God,  in  His  adorable  clemency,  had  allowed 
him  to  choose  an  angel  among  women ;  he  has  had  the  un- 
speakable happiness  of  having  an  Adeline  for  his  wife !  And 
he  has  deceived  her,  he  has  soaked  her  in  sorrows,  he  has 
neglected  her  for  prostitutes,  for  street-hussies,  for  ballet-girls, 
actresses — Cadine,  Josepha,  Marneffe !  And  that  is  the 
brother  I  treated  as  a  son  and  made  my  pride ! 

"  Go,  wretched  man  ;  if  you  can  accept  the  life  of  degrada- 
tion you  have  made  for  yourself,  leave  my  house !  I  have  not 
the  heart  to  curse  a  brother  I  have  loved  so  well — I  am  as  foolish 
about  him  as  you  are,  Adeline — but  never  let  me  see  him 
again.  I  forbid  his  attending  my  funeral  or  following  me  to 
the  grave.  Let  him  show  the  decency  of  a  criminal  if  he  can 
feel  no  remorse." 

The  marshal,  as  pale  as  death,  fell  back  on  the  settee,  ex- 
hausted by  his  solemn  speech.  And,  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life,  perhaps,  tears  gathered  in  his  eyes  and  rolled  down  his 
cheeks. 

"  My  poor  uncle  !  "  cried  Lisbeth,  putting  a  handkerchief 
to  her  eyes. 

"Brother!  "  said  Adeline,  kneeling  down  by  the  marshal, 
**  live  for  my  sake.  Help  me  in  the  task  of  reconciling 
Hector  to  the  world  and  making  him  redeem  the  past." 

"  He  !  "  cried  the  marshal.  "  If  he  lives,  he  is  not  at  the 
end  of  his  crimes.  A  man  who  has  misprized  an  Adeline, 
who  has  smothered  in  his  own  soul  the  feelings  of  a  true 
Republican  which  I  tried  to  instill  into  him,  the  love  of  his 
country,  of  his  family,  and  of  the  poor — that  man  is  a  mon- 
ster, a  swine !  Take  him  away  if  you  still  care  for  him,  for 
23  " 


354  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

a  voice  within  me  cries  to  me  to  load  my  pistols  and  blow  his 
brains  out.  By  killing  him  I  should  save  you  all,  and  I  should 
save  him,  too,  from  himself." 

The  old  man  started  to  his  feet  with  such  a  terrifying  gesture 
that  poor  Adeline  exclaimed — 

**  Hector — come  !  " 

She  seized  her  husband's  arm,  dragged  him  away,  and  out 
of  the  house ;  but  the  baron  was  so  broken  down,  that  she  was 
obliged  to  call  a  coach  to  take  him  to  the  Rue  Plumet,  where 
he  went  to  bed.  The  man  remained  there  for  several  days  in 
a  sort  of  half-dissolution,  refusing  all  nourishment  without  a 
word.  By  floods  of  tears,  Adeline  persuaded  him  to  swallow 
a  little  broth  -,  she  nursed  him,  sitting  by  his  bed,  and  feeling 
only,  of  all  the  emotions  that  once  had  filled  her  heart,  the 
deepest  pity  for  him. 

At  half-past  twelve,  Lisbeth  showed  into  her  dear  marshal's 
room — for  she  would  not  leave  him,  so  much  was  she  alarmed 
at  the  evident  change  in  him — Count  Steinbock  and  the  notary. 

**  Monsieur  le  Comte,"  said  the  marshal,  "  I  would  beg  you 
to  be  so  good  as  to  put  your  signature  to  a  document  authoriz- 
ing my  niece,  your  wife,  to  sell  a  bond  for  certain  funds  of 
which  she  at  present  holds  only  the  reversion.  You,  Made- 
moiselle Fischer,  will  agree  to  this  sale,  thus  losing  your  life 
interest  in  the  securities." 

"Yes,  dear  count,"  said  Lisbeth  without  hesitation. 

"  Good,  my  dear,"  said  the  old  soldier.  "  I  hope  I  may 
live  to  reward  you.  But  I  did  not  doubt  you ;  you  are  a 
true  Republican,  a  daughter  of  the  people."  He  took  the 
old  maid's  hand  and  kissed  it. 

**  Monsieur  Hannequin,"  he  went  on,  speaking  to  the  no- 
tary, "  draw  up  the  necessary  document  in  the  form  of  a  power 
of  attorney,  and  let  me  have  it  within  two  hours,  so  that  I 
may  sell  the  stock  on  the  Bourse  to-day.  My  niece,  the 
countess,  holds  the  security;  she  will  be  here  to  sign  the 
power  pf  attorney  when  you  bring  it,  and  so  will  mademoir 


COUSIN  BETTY.  355 

selle.  Monsieur  le  Comte  will  be  good  enough  to  go  with 
you  and  sign  it  at  your  office." 

The  artist,  at  a  nod  from  Lisbeth,  bowed  respectfully  to  the 
marshal  and  went  away. 

Next  morning,  at  ten  o'clock,  the  Comte  de  Forzheim  sent 
in  to  announce  himself  to  the  prince,  and  was  at  once  ad- 
mitted. 

"Well,  my  dear  Hulot,"  said  the  prince,  holding  out  the 
newspapers  to  his  old  friend,  "we  have  saved  appearances, 
you  see.     Read." 

Marshal  Hulot  laid  the  papers  on  his  comrade's  table,  and 
held  out  to  him  the  two  hundred  thousand  francs. 

*'  Here  is  the  money  of  which  my  brother  robbed  the 
State,"  said  he. 

*' What  madness  !  '  cried  the  minister.  **  It  is  impossible," 
he  said  into  the  speaking  trumpet  handed  to  him  by  the  mar- 
shal, **  to  manage  this  restitution.  We  should  be  obliged  to 
declare  your  brother's  dishonest  dealings,  and  we  have  done 
everything  to  hide  them." 

"  Do  what  you  like  with  the  money  j  but  the  family  shall 
not  owe  one  sou  of  its  fortune  to  a  robbery  on  the  funds  of 
the  State,"  said  the  count. 

"  I  will  take  the  King's  commands  in  the  matter.  We  will 
discuss  it  no  further,"  replied  the  prince,  perceiving  that  it 
would  be  imp)ossible  to  conquer  the  old  man's  sublime  ob- 
stinacy on  the  point. 

**  Good-by,  Cottin,"  said  the  old  soldier,  taking  the  prince's 
hand.     "  I  feel  as  if  my  soul  were  frozen " 

Then,  after  going  a  step  toward  the  door,  he  turned  round, 
looked  at  the  prince,  and,  seeing  that  he  was  deeply  moved, 
he  opened  his  arms  to  clasp  him  in  them  ;  the  two  old  sol- 
diers embraced  each  other. 

"  I  feel  as  if  I  were  taking  leave  of  the  whole  of  the  old 
army  in  you,"  said  the  count. 

"  Good-by,  my  good  old  comrade  !  "  said  the  minister. 


356  THE  POOR  PARENTS, 

**  Yes,  it  is  good-by ;  for  I  am  going  where  all  our  brave 
men  are  for  whom  we  have  mourned " 

Just  then  Claud  Vignon  was  shown  in.  The  two  relics  of 
the  Napoleonic  phalanx  bowed  gravely  to  each  other,  effacing 
every  trace  of  emotion. 

"You  have,  I  hope,  been  satisfied  by  the  papers,"  said 
the  master  of  appeals  elect.  "  I  contrived  to  let  the  Opposi- 
tion papers  believe  that  they  were  letting  out  our  secrets." 

"Unfortunately,  it  is  all  in  vain,"  replied  the  minister, 
watching  Hulot  as  he  left  the  room.  *'I  have  just  gone 
through  a  leave-taking  that  has  been  a  great  grief  to  me. 
For,  indeed,  Marshal  Hulot  has  not  three  days  to  live ;  I  saw 
that  plainly  enough  yesterday.  That  man,  one  of  those  honest 
souls  that  are  above  proof,  a  soldier  respected  by  the  bullets 
in  spite  of  his  valor,  received  his  death-blow — there,  in  that 
armchair — and  dealt  by  my  hand,  in  a  letter  !  Ring  and 
order  my  carriage.  I  must  go  to  Neuilly,"  said  he,  putting 
the  two  hundred  thousand  francs  into  his  official  portfolio. 

Notwithstanding  Lisbeth's  nursing,  Marshal  Hulot  three 
days  later  was  a  dead  man.  Such  men  are  the  glory  of  the 
party  they  support.  To  Republicans,  the  marshal  was  the 
ideal  of  patriotism ;  and  they  all  attended  his  funeral,  which 
was  followed  by  an  immense  crowd.  The  army,  the  State 
officials,  the  Court,  and  the  populace  all  came  to  do  homage 
to  this  lofty  virtue,  this  spotless  honesty,  this  immaculate 
glory.  Such  a  last  tribute  of  the  people  is  not  a  thing  to  be 
had  for  the  asking. 

This  funeral  was  distinguished  by  one  of  those  tributes  of 
delicate  feeling,  of  good  taste,  and  sincere  respect  which  from 
time  to  time  remind  us  of  the  virtues  and  dignity  of  the  old 
French  nobility.  Following  the  marshal's  bier  came  the  old 
Marquis  de  Montauran,  the  brother  of  him  who,  in  the  great 
rising  of  the  Chouans  in  1799,  had  been  the  foe,  the  luckless 
foe,   of  Hulot.      That   marquis,  killed  by  the  balls  of  the 


COUSIN  BETTY.  357 

*' Blues,"  had  confided  the  interests  of  his  young  brother  to 
the  Republican  soldier.  (See  "  Les  Chouans.")  Hulot  had 
so  faithfully  acted  on  the  noble  Royalist's  verbal  will  that  he 
succeeded  in  saving  the  young  man's  estates,  though  he  him- 
self was  at  the  time  an  emigre.  And  so  the  homage  of  the 
old  French  nobility  was  not  wanting  to  the  leader  who,  nine 
years  since,  had  conquered  Madame. 

This  death,  happening  just  four  days  before  the  banns  were 
cried  for  the  last  time,  came  upon  Lisbeth  like  the  thunder- 
bolt that  burns  the  garnered  harvest  with  the  barn.  The 
peasant  of  Lorraine,  as  often  happens,  had  succeeded  too  well. 
The  marshal  had  died  of  the  blows  dealt  to  the  family  by  her- 
self and  Madame  Marneffe. 

The  old  maid's  vindictiveness,  which  success  seemed  to 
have  somewhat  mollified,  was  aggravated  by  this  disappoint- 
ment of  her  hopes.  Lisbeth  went,  crying  with  rage,  to 
Madame  Marneffe ;  for  she  was  homeless,  the  marshal  having 
agreed  that  his  lease  was  at  any  time  to  terminate  with  his 
life.  Crevel,  to  console  Valerie's  friend,  took  charge  of  her 
savings,  added  to  them  considerably,  and  invested  the  capital 
in  five  per  cents.,  giving  her  the  life  interest,  and  putting  the 
securities  into  Celestine's  name.  Thanks  to  this  stroke  of 
business,  Lisbeth  had  an  income  of  about  two  thousand  francs. 

When  the  marshal's  property  was  examined  and  valued,  a 
note  was  found,  addressed  to  his  sister-in-law,  to  his  niece 
Hortense,  and  to  his  nephew  Victorin,  desiring  that  they 
would  pay  among  them  an  annuity  of  twelve  hundred  francs 
to  Mademoiselle  Lisbeth  Fischer,  who  was  to  have  been  his 
wife. 

Adeline,  seeing  her  husband  between  life  and  death,  suc- 
ceeded for  some  days  in  hiding  from  him  the  fact  of  his 
brother's  death;  but  Lisbeth  came,  in  mourning,  and  the 
terrible  truth  was  told  him  eleven  days  after  the  funeral. 

This  crushing  blow  revived  the  sick  man's  energies.  He 
got  up,  found  his  family  collected  in  the  drawing-room  all  in 


858^  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

black,  and  suddenly  silent  as  he  came  in.  In  a  fortnight, 
Hulot,  as  lean  as  a  spectre,  looked  to  his  family  the  mere 
shadow  of  himself. 

**  I  must  decide  on  something,"  said  he  in  a  husky  voice, 
as  he  seated  himself  in  an  easy-chair,  and  looked  round  at  the 
party,  of  whom  Crevel  and  Steinbock  were  absent. 

**  We  cannot  stay  here,  the  rent  is  too  high,"  Hortense  was 
saying  just  as  her  father  came  in. 

"  As  to  a  home,"  said  Victorin,  breaking  the  painful  silence, 
**  I  can  offer  my  mother " 

As  he  heard  these  words,  which  excluded  him,  the  baron 
raised  his  head,  which  was  sunk  on  his  breast  as  though  he 
were  studying  the  pattern  of  the  carpet,  though  he  did  not 
even  see  it,  and  he  gave  the  young  lawyer  an  appealing  look. 
The  rights  of  a  father  are  so  indefeasibly  sacred,  even  when 
he  is  a  villain  and  devoid  of  honor,  that  Victorin  paused. 

"  To  your  mother,"  the  baron  repeated.  "You  are  right, 
my  son." 

"The  rooms  over  ours  in  our  wing,"  said  Celestine,  finish- 
ing her  husband's  sentence. 

"I  am  in  your  way,  my  dears?"  said  the  baron,  with  the 
mildness  of  a  man  who  has  judged  himself.  "  But  do  not  be 
uneasy  as  to  the  future ;  you  will  have  no  further  cause  for 
complaint  of  your  father ;  you  will  not  see  him  till  the  time 
when  you  need  no  longer  blush  for  him." 

He  went  up  to  Hortense  and  kissed  her  brow.  He  opened 
his  arms  to  his  son,  who  rushed  into  his  embrace,  guessing  his 
father's  purpose.  The  baron  signed  to  Lisbeth,  who  came  to 
him,  and  he  kissed  her  forehead.  Then  he  went  to  his  room, 
whither  Adeline  followed  him  in  an  agony  of  dread. 

"My  brother  was  quite  right,  Adeline,"  he  said,  holding 
her  hand.  "I  am  unworthy  of  my  home  life.  I  dared  not 
bless  my  children,  who  have  behaved  so  nobly,  but  in  my 
heart ;  tell  them  that  I  could  only  venture  to  kiss  them ;  for 
the  blessing  of  a  bad  man,  a  father  who  has  been  an  assassin 


COUSIN  BETTY.  359 

and  the  scourge  of  his  family  instead  of  its  protector  and  its 
glory,  might  bring  evil  on  them ;  but  assure  them  that  I  shall 
bless  them  every  day.  As  to  you,  God  alone,  for  He  is 
Almighty,  can  ever  reward  you  according  to  your  merits  !  I 
can  only  ask  your  forgiveness  !  "  and  he  knelt  at  her  feet, 
taking  her  hands  and  wetting  them  with  his  tears. 

*'  Hector,  Hector  !  Your  sins  have  been  great,  but  Divine 
mercy  is  infinite,  and  you  may  repair  all  by  staying  with  me. 
Rise  up  in  Christian  charity,  my  dear — I  am  your  wife,  and 
not  your  judge.  I  am  your  possession  ;  do  what  you  will  with 
me ;  take  me  wherever  you  go,  I  feel  strong  enough  to  comfort 
you,  and  to  make  life  endurable  to  you,  by  the  strength  of  my 
love,  my  care,  and  respect.  Our  children  are  settled  in  life ; 
they  need  me  no  more.  Let  me  try  to  be  an  amusement  to 
you,  an  occupation.  Let  me  share  the  pain  of  your  banish- 
ment and  of  your  poverty,  and  help  to  mitigate  it.  I  could 
always  be  of  some  use,  if  it  were  only  to  save  the  expense  of 
a  servant." 

"Can  you  forgive,  my  dearly  beloved  Adeline?" 

"  Yes,  only  get  up,  my  dear  !  " 

"Well,  with  that  forgiveness  I  can  live,"  said  he,  rising  to 
his  feet.  "  I  came  back  into  this  room  that  my  children  should 
not  see  their  father's  humiliation.  Oh  !  the  sight  constantly 
before  their  eyes  of  a  father  so  guilty  as  I  am  is  a  terrible 
thing ;  it  must  undermine  parental  influence  and  break  every 
family  tie.  So  I  cannot  remain  among  you,  and  I  must  go  to 
spare  you  the  odious  spectacle  of  a  father  bereft  of  dignity. 
Do  not  oppose  my  departure,  Adeline.  It  would  only  be  to 
load  with  your  own  hand  the  pistol  to  blow  my  brains  out. 
Above  all,  do  not  seek  me  in  my  hiding-place;  you  would 
deprive  me  of  the  only  strong  motive  remaining  in  me,  that 
of  remorse." 

Hector's  decisiveness  silenced  his  dejected  wife.  Adeline, 
lofty  in  the  midst  of  all  this  ruin,  had  derived  her  courage 
from  her  perfect  union  with  her  husband  ;  for  she  had  dreamed 


360  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

of  having  him  for  her  own,  of  the  beautiful  task  of  comforting 
him,  of  leading  him  back  to  family  life,  and  reconciling  him 
to  himself. 

"But,  Hector,  would  you  leave  me  to  die  of  despair, 
anxiety,  and  alarms  ! ' '  said  she,  seeing  herself  bereft  of  the 
mainspring  of  her  strength. 

"I  will  come  back  to  you,  dear  angel — sent  from  heaven 
expressly  for  me,  I  believe.  I  will  come  back,  if  not  rich,  at 
least  with  enough  to  live  in  ease.  Listen,  my  sweet  Adeline, 
I  cannot  stay  here  for  many  reasons.  In  the  first  place,  my 
pension  of  six  thousand  francs  is  pledged  for  four  years,  so  I 
have  nothing.  That  is  not  all.  I  shall  be  committed  to  prison 
within  a  few  days  in  consequence  of  the  bills  held  by  Vauvinet. 
So  I  must  keep  out  of  the  way  until  my  son,  to  whom  I  will 
give  full  instructions,  shall  have  bought  in  the  bills.  My  dis- 
appearance will  facilitate  that.  As  soon  as  my  pension  is  my 
own,  and  Vauvinet  is  paid  off,  I  will  return  to  you.  You 
would  be  sure  to  let  out  the  secret  of  my  hiding-place.  Be 
calm ;  do  not  cry,  Adeline — it  is  only  for  a  month " 

"Where  will  you  go?  What  will  you  do?  What  will 
become  of  you  ?  Who  will  take  care  of  you  now  that  you  are 
no  longer  young  ?  Let  me  go  with  you — we  will  go  abroad 
and "  said  she. 

"Well,  well,  we  will  see,"  he  replied. 

The  baron  rang  and  ordered  Mariette  to  collect  all  his 
things  and  pack  them  quickly  and  secretly.  Then,  after  em- 
bracing his  wife  with  a  warmth  of  affection  to  which  she  was 
unaccustomed,  he  begged  her  to  leave  him  alone  for  a  few 
minutes  while  he  wrote  his  instructions  for  Victorin,  promising 
that  he  would  not  leave  the  house  till  dark,  or  without  her. 

As  soon  as  the  baroness  was  in  the  drawing-room,  the  cun- 
ning old  man  stole  out  through  the  dressing-closet  to  the  ante- 
room, and  went  away,  giving  Mariette  a  slip  of  paper,  on 
which  was  written  :  "Address  my  trunks  to  go  by  railway  to 
Corbeil — to  Monsieur  Hector,  cloak-room,  Corbeil." 


COUSIN  BETTY.  361 

The  baron  jumped  into  a  hackney-coach,  and  was  rushing 
across  Paris,  by  the  time  Mariette  came  to  give  the  baroness 
this  note,  and  say  that  her  master  had  gone  out.  Adeline 
flew  back  into  her  room,  trembling  more  violently  than  ever; 
her  children  followed  on  hearing  her  give  a  piercing  cry. 
They  found  her  in  a  dead  faint ;  and  they  put  her  to  bed,  for 
she  was  seized  by  a  nervous  fever  which  held  her  for  a  month 
between  life  and  death. 

"Where  is  he?"  was  the  only  thing  she  would  say. 

Victorin  sought  for  him  in  vain. 

And  this  is  why.  The  baron  had  driven  to  the  Place  du 
Palais  Royal.  There  this  man,  who  had  recovered  all  his  wits 
to  work  out  a  scheme  which  he  had  premeditated  during  the 
days  he  had  spent  in  bed  crushed  with  pain  and  grief,  crossed 
the  Palais  Royal  on  foot,  and  took  a  handsome  carriage  from 
a  livery-stable  in  the  Rue  Joquelet.  In  obedience  to  his 
orders,  the  coachman  went  to  the  Rue  de  la  Ville  I'Eveque, 
and  into  the  courtyard  of  Josepha's  mansion,  the  gates  open- 
ing at  once  at  the  call  of  the  driver  of  such  a  splendid  vehicle. 
Josepha  came  out,  prompted  by  curiosity,  for  her  manservant 
had  told  her  that  a  helpless  old  gentleman,  unable  to  get  out 
of  his  carriage,  begged  her  to  come  to  him  for  a  moment. 

"  Josepha  ! — it  is  I " 

The  singer  recognized  her  Hulot  only  by  his  voice. 

"  What  ?  you,  poor  old  man  ?  On  my  honor,  you  look 
like  a  twenty-franc  piece  that  the  Jews  have  sweated  and  the 
money-changers  refuse." 

"Alas,  yes,"  replied  Hulot;  "I  am  snatched  from  the  jaws 
of  death  !  But  you  are  as  lovely  as  ever.  Will  you  be 
kind  ?  " 

"  That  depends,"  said  she  ;  "  everything  is  relative." 

"Listen,"  said  Hulot ;  "  can  you  put  me  up  for  a  few  days 
in  a  servant's  room  under  the  roof?  I  have  nothing — not  a 
centime,  not  a  hope ;  no  food,  no  pension,  no  wife,  no  chil- 
dren, no  roof  over  my  head ;  without  honor,  without  courage, 


362  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

without  a  friend ;  and  worse  than  all  that,  liable  to  imprison- 
ment for  not  meeting  a  bill." 

"  Poor  old  fellow  !  you  are  without  most  things.  Are  you 
also  sans  culotte  /  "* 

"You  laugh  at  me!  I  am  done  for,"  cried  the  baron. 
**And  I  counted  on  you  as  Gourville  did  on  Ninon." 

"And  it  was  a  'real  lady,'  I  am  told,  who  brought  you  to 
this,"  said  Josepha.  "Those  precious  sluts  know  how  to 
pluck  a  goose  even  better  than  we  do  1  Why,  you  are  like  a 
corpse  that  the  crows  have  done  with — I  can  see  daylight 
through  you !  " 

"  Time  is  short,  Josepha  !  " 

"  Come  in,  old  boy.  I  am  alone,  as  it  happens,  and  my 
people  don't  know  you.  Send  away  your  trap.  Is  it  paid 
for?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  baron,  getting  out  with  the  help  of  Jos6- 
pha's  arm. 

"You  may  call  yourself  my  father  if  you  like,"  said  the 
singer,  moved  to  pity. 

She  made  Hulot  sit  down  in  the  splendid  drawing-room 
where  he  had  last  seen  her. 

"And  is  it  the  fact,  old  man,"  she  went  on,  "  that  you  have 
killed  your  brother  and  your  uncle,  ruined  your  family,  mort- 
gaged your  children's  house  over  and  over  again,  and  robbed 
the  Government  till  in  Africa,  all  for  your  princess?  " 

Hulot  sadly  bent  his  head. 

"  Well,  I  admire  that !  "  cried  Josepha,  starting  up  in  ner 
enthusiasm.  "  It  is  a  general  flare  up  !  It  is  Sardanapalus  ! 
Splendid,  thorough,  complete.  I  may  be  a  hussy,  but  I  have 
a  soul !  I  tell  you,  I  like  a  spendthrift,  like  you,  crazy  over  a 
woman,  a  thousand  times  better  than  those  torpid,  heartless 
bankers,  who  are  supposed  to  be  so  good,  and  who  ruin  no 
end  of  families  with  their  rails — gold  for  them,  and  iron  for 
their  gulls  !  You  have  only  ruined  those  who  belong  to  you, 
*  Without  breeches. 


COUSIN  BETTY.  363 

you  have  sold  no  one  but  yourself;  and  then  you  have  excuses, 
physical  and  moral." 

She  struck  a  tragic  attitude,  and  spouted — 

"'  'Tis  Venus,  whose  grasp  never  parts  from  her  prey.' 

And  there  you  are !  "  and  she  pirouetted  on  her  toe. 

Vice,  Hulot  found,  could  absolve  him  ;  vice  smiled  on  him 
from  the  midst  of  unbridled  luxury.  Here,  as  before  a  jury, 
the  magnitude  of  a  crime  was  an  extenuating  circumstance. 
'•'And  is  your  lady  pretty  at  any  rate  ?  "  asked  Josepha,  trying, 
as  a  preliminary  act  of  charity,  to  divert  Hulot's  thoughts,  for 
his  depression  grieved  her. 

"  On  my  word,  almost  as  pretty  as  you  are,"  said  the  baron 
artfully. 

"And  monstrously  droll  !  So  I  have  been  told.  What  does 
she  do,  I  say  ?     Is  she  better  fun  than  I  am? " 

"  I  don't  want  to  talk  about  her,"  said  Hulot. 

"And  I  hear  she  has  come  round  my  Crevel  and  little 
Steinbock,  and  a  gorgeous  Brazilian  ?  " 

"Very  likely." 

"And  that  she  has  a  house  as  good  as  this,  that  Crevel  has 
given  her.  The  baggage  !  She  is  my  provost-marshal,  and 
finishes  off  those  I  have  spoiled.  I  tell  you  why  I  am  so 
curious  to  know  what  she  is  like,  old  boy ;  I  just  caught  sight 
of  her  in  the  Bois,  in  an  open  carriage — but  a  long  way  off. 
She  is  a  most  accomplished  harpy,  Carabine  says.  She  is 
trying  to  eat  up  Crevel,  but  he  only  lets  her  nibble.  Crevel 
is  a  knowing  hand,  good-natured  but  hard-headed,  who  will 
always  say  Yes,  and  then  go  his  own  way.  He  is  vain  and 
passionate ;  but  his  cash  is  cold.  You  can  never  get  anything 
out  of  such  fellows  beyond  a  thousand  to  three  thousand 
francs  a  month ;  they  balk  at  any  serious  outlay,  as  a  donkey 
does  at  a  running  stream. 

"  Not  like  you,  old  boy.  You  are  a  man  of  passions ;  you 
would  sell  your  country  for  a  woman.     And,  look  here,  I  am 


364  THE   POOR  PARENTS. 

ready  to  do  anything  for  you!  You  are  my  fatiier;  you 
started  me  in  life ;  it  is  a  sacred  duty.  What  do  you  want  ? 
Do  you  want  a  hundred  thousand  francs?  I  will  wear  myself 
to  a  rag  to  gain  them.  As  to  giving  you  bed  and  board — that 
is  nothing.  A  plate  will  be  laid  for  you  here  every  day;  you 
can  have  a  good  room  on  the  third  floor,  and  a  hundred 
crowns  a  month  for  pocket-money." 

The  baron,  deeply  touched  by  such  a  welcome,  had  a  last 
qualm  of  honor. 

"No,  my  dear  child,  no;  I  did  not  come  here  for  you  to 
keep  me,"  said  he. 

"At  your  age  it  is  something  to  be  proud  of,"  said  she. 

"This  is  what  I  wish,  my  child.  Your  Due  d'Herouville 
has  immense  estates  in  Normandy,  and  I  want  to  be  his 
steward,  under  the  name  of  Thoul.  I  have  the  capacity,  and 
I  am  honest.  A  man  may  borrow  of  the  Government,  and 
yet  not  steal  from  a  cash-box " 

"  H'm,  h'm,"  said  Josepha.     "  Once  drunk,  drinks  again." 

"  In  short,  I  only  want  to  live  out  of  sight  for  three 
years " 

"Well,  it  is  soon  done,"  said  Josepha.  "This  evening, 
after  dinner,  I  have  only  to  speak.  The  duke  would  marry 
me  if  I  wished  it,  but  I  have  his  fortune,  and  I  want  some- 
thing better — his  esteem.  He  is  a  duke  of  the  first  water. 
He  is  high-minded,  as  noble  and  great  as  Louis  XIV.  and 
Napoleon  rolled  into  one,  though  he  is  a  dwarf.  Beside,  I 
have  done  for  him  what  la  Schontz  did  for  Rochefide  ;  by 
taking  my  advice  he  has  made  two  millions. 

"Now,  listen  to  me,  old  popgun.  I  know  you;  you  are 
always  after  the  women,  and  you  would  be  dancing  attend- 
ance on  the  Normandy  girls,  who  are  splendid  creatures,  and 
getting  your  ribs  cracked  by  their  lovers  and  fathers,  and  the 
duke  would  have  to  get  you  out  of  the  scrape.  Why,  can't  I 
see  by  the  way  you  look  at  me  that  \\it.  youtig  man  is  not  dead 
in  you — as  Fenelon  put  it.     No,  this  stewardship  is  not  the 


COUSIN  BETTY.  365 

thing  for  you.  A  man  cannot  be  off  with  his  Paris  and  with 
us,  old  boy,  for  the  saying !  You  would  die  of  weariness  at 
Herouville." 

"What  is  to  become  of  me?"  said  the  baron,  "for  I  will 
only  stay  here  until  I  see  my  way." 

*'  Well,  shall  I  find  a  pigeon-hole  for  you?  Listen,  you  old 
pirate.  Women  are  what  you  want.  They  are  consolation 
in  all  circumstances.  Attend  now :  At  the  end  of  the  Alley, 
Rue  Saint-Maur  du  Temple,  there  is  a  poor  family  I  know 
of  where  there  is  a  jewel  of  a  little  girl,  prettier  than  I  was  at 
sixteen.  Ah  !  there  is  a  twinkle  in  your  eye  already  !  The 
child  works  sixteen  hours  a  day  at  embroidering  costly  pieces 
for  the  silk  merchants,  and  earns  sixteen  sous  a  day — one  sou 
an  hour ! — and  feeds  like  the  Irish  on  potatoes,  only  fried  in 
rats'  grease,  with  bread  five  times  a  week — and  drinks  canal 
water  out  of  the  town  pipes,  because  Seine  water  costs  too 
much ;  and  she  cannot  set  up  on  her  own  account  for  lack  of 
six  or  seven  thousand  francs.  Your  wife  and  children  bore 
you  to  death,  don't  they?  Beside,  one  cannot  submit  to  be 
nobody  where  one  has  been  a  little  Almighty.  A  father  who 
has  neither  money  nor  honor  can  only  be  stuffed  and  kept  in 
a  glass  case." 

The  baron  could  not  help  smiling  at  these  abominable  jests. 

"  Well,  now,  Bijou  is  to  come  to-morrow  morning  to  bring 
me  an  embroidered  wrapper,  a  gem  !  It  has  taken  six  months 
to  make;  no  one  else  will  have  any  stuff  like  it!  Bijou  is 
very  fond  of  me ;  I  give  her  titbits  and  my  old  gowns.  And 
I  send  orders  for  bread  and  meat  and  wood  to  the  family,  who 
would  break  the  shin-bones  of  the  first-comer  if  I  bid  them. 
I  try  to  do  a  little  good.  Ah  !  I  know  what  I  endured  from 
hunger  myself!  Bijou  has  confided  to  me  all  her  little  sor- 
rows. There  is  the  making  of  a  super  at  the  Ambigu-Comique 
in  that  child.  Her  dream  is  to  wear  fine  dresses  like  mine ; 
above  all,  to  ride  in  a  carriage.  I  shall  say  to  her,  '  Look 
here,  little  one,   would   you  like  to  have  a  friend  of ■' 


366  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

How  old  are  you  ?  "  she  asked,  interrupting  herself.  "  Seventy- 
two?" 

**I  have  given  up  counting." 

"  '  Would  you  like  an  old  gentleman  of  seventy-two  ? '  I 
shall  say.  '  Very  clean  and  neat,  and  who  does  not  take  snuff, 
who  is  as  sound  as  a  bell,  and  as  good  as  a  young  man  ?  He 
will  i^arry  you  (in  the  thirteenth  arrondissement) — or  over 
the  left — and  be  very  kind  to  you ;  he  will  place  seven  thou- 
sand francs  to  your  account,  and  furnish  you  a  room  all  in 
mahogany ;  and  if  you  are  good,  he  will  sometimes  take  you 
to  the  play.  He  will  give  you  a  hundred  francs  a  month  for 
pocket-money,  and  fifty  francs  for  housekeeping.'  I  know 
Bijou ;  she  is  myself  at  fourteen.  I  jumped  for  joy  when  that 
horrible  Crevel  made  me  his  atrocious  offers.  Well,  and  you, 
old  man,  will  be  disposed  of  for  three  years.  She  is  a  good 
child,  well  behaved ;  for  three  or  four  years  she  will  have  her 
illusions — not  for  longer." 

Hulot  did  not  hesitate ;  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  refuse ; 
but  to  seem  grateful  to  the  kind-hearted  singer,  who  was 
benevolent  after  her  lights,  he  affected  to  hesitate  between 
vice  and  virtue. 

"  Why,  you  are  as  cold  as  a  paving-stone  in  winter  !  "  she 
exclaimed  in  amazement.  *'  Come,  now.  You  will  make  a 
whole  family  happy — a  grandfather  who  runs  all  the  errands, 
a  mother  who  is  being  worn  out  with  work,  and  two  sisters — 
one  of  them  very  plain — who  make  thirt)'-two  sous  a  day  while 
putting  their  eyes  out.  It  will  make  up  for  the  misery  you 
have  caused  at  home,  and  you  will  expiate  your  sin  while  you 
are  having  as  much  fun  as  a  minx  at  Mabille." 

Hulot,  to  put  an  end  to  this  temptation,  moved  his  fingers 
as  if  he  were  counting  out  money. 

"■  Oh  !  be  quite  easy  as  to  ways  and  means,"  replied  Josepha. 
**  My  duke  will  lend  you  ten  thousand  francs ;  seven  thousand 
to  start  an  embroidery  store  in  Bijou's  name,  and  three  thou- 
sand for  furnishing ;  and  every  three  months  you  will  find  a 


COUSIN  BETTY.  367 

cheque  here  for  six  hundred  and  fifty  francs.  When  you  get 
your  pension  paid  you,  you  can  repay  the  seventeen  thousand 
francs.  Meanwhile  you  will  be  as  happy  as  a  cow  in  clover, 
and  hidden  in  a  hole  where  the  police  will  never  find  you. 
You  must  wear  a  loose  serge  coat,  and  you  will  look  like  a 
comfortable  householder.  Call  yourself  Thoul,  if  that  is  your 
fancy.  I  will  tell  Bijou  that  you  are  an  uncle  of  mine  come 
from  Germany,  having  failed  in  business,  and  you  will  be  cos- 
seted like  a  divinity.  There  now,  daddy  !  And  who  knows ! 
you  may  have  no  regrets.  In  case  you  should  be  bored,  keep 
one  Sunday  rig-out,  and  you  can  come  and  ask  me  for  a  din- 
ner and  spend  the  evening  here." 

*'  I — and  I  meant  to  settle  down  and  behave  myself!  Look 
here,  borrow  twenty  thousand  francs  for  me,  and  I  will  set  out 
to  make  my  fortune  in  America,  like  my  friend  d'Aiglemont 
when  Nucingen  cleaned  him  out." 

"  You  !  "  cried  Josepha.  "  Nay,  leave  morals  to  work-a-day 
folk,  to  raw  recruits,  to  the  worrrthy  citizens  who  have  nothing 
to  boast  of  but  their  virtue.  You!  You  were  born  to  be 
something  better  than  a  nincompoop;  you  are  as  a  man 
what  I  am  as  a  woman — a  spendthrift  of  genius." 

"  We  will  sleep  on  it  and  discuss  it  all  to-morrow  morning." 

"You  will  dine  with  the  duke.  My  d'Herouville  will 
receive  you  as  civilly  as  if  you  were  the  savior  of  the  State ; 
and  to-morrow  you  can  decide.  Come,  be  jolly,  old  boy ! 
Life  is  a  garment ;  when  it  is  dirty,  we  must  brush  it ; 
when  it  is  ragged,  it  must  be  patched ;  but  we  keep  it  on 
as  long  as  we  can." 

This  philosophy  of  life,  and  her  high  spirits,  postponed 
Hulot's  keenest  pangs. 

At  noon  next  day,  after  a  capital  breakfast,  Hulot  saw 
the  arrival  of  one  of  those  living  masterpieces  which  Paris 
alone,  of  all  the  cities  in  the  world,  can  produce,  by  means 
of  the  constant  concubinage  of  luxury  and  poverty,  of  vice 
and  decent  honesty,  of  suppressed  desire  and  renewed  tempta- 


368  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

tion,  which  makes  the  French  capital  the  daughter  of  Nineveh, 
of  Babylon,  and  the  once  imperial  Rome. 

Mademoiselle  Olympe  Bijou,  a  child  of  sixteen,  had  the 
exquisite  face  which  Raphael  drew  for  his  Virgins ;  eyes  of 
pathetic  innocence,  weary  with  overwork — black  eyes,  with 
long  lashes,  their  moisture  parched  with  the  heat  of  laborious 
nights,  and  darkened  with  fatigue  j  a  complexion  like  porce- 
lain, almost  too  delicate;  a  mouth  like  a  partly  opened  pome- 
granate; a  heaving  bosom,  a  full  figure,  pretty  hands,  the 
whitest  teeth,  and  a  mass  of  black  hair;  and  the  whole 
meagrely  set  off  by  a  cotton  frock  at  seventy-five  centimes 
the  mgtre,  leather  shoes  without  heels,  and  the  cheapest  gloves. 
The  girl,  all  unconscious  of  her  charms,  had  put  on  her  best 
frock  to  wait  on  the  fine  lady. 

The  baron,  gripped  again  by  the  clutch  of  profligacy,  felt 
all  his  life  concentrated  in  his  eyes.  He  forgot  everything 
on  beholding  this  delightful  creature.  He  was  like  a  sports- 
man in  sight  of  the  game ;  if  an  emperor  were  present,  he 
must  take  aim  ! 

"And  warranted  sound,"  said  Josepha  in  his  ear.  "An 
honest  child,  and  wanting  bread.  This  is  Paris — I  have  been 
there!" 

"  It  is  a  bargain,"  replied  the  old  man,  getting  up  and  rub- 
bing his  hands. 

When  Olympe  Bijou  was  gone,  Josepha  looked  mischievously 
at  the  baron. 

"If  you  want  things  to  keep  straight,  daddy,"  said  she, 
"be  as  firm  as  the  public  prosecutor  on  the  bench.  Keep  a 
tight  hand  on  her,  be  a  Bartoldo  !*  Ware  Auguste,  Hippolyte, 
Nestor,  Victor — or,  that  is  gold,  in  every  form.  When  once 
the  child  is  fed  and  dressed,  if  she  gets  the  upper  hand,  she 
will  drive  you  like  a  serf.  I  will  see  to  settling  you  comfort- 
ably. The  duke  does  the  handsome ;  he  will  lend — that  is, 
give — you  ten  thousand  francs ;  and  he  deposits  eight  thou- 
*  A  miser  in  Dean  Milman's  "  Fazio." 


COUSIN  BETTY.  809 

sand  with  his  notary,  who  will  pay  you  six  hundred  francs 
every  quarter,  for  I  cannot  trust  you.     Now,  am  I  nice?" 

"Adorable." 

Ten  days  after  deserting  his  family,  when  they  were  gathered 
round  Adeline,  who  seemed  to  be  dying,  as  she  said  again  and 
again,  in  a  weak  voice  :  "  Where  is  he?  "  Hector,  under  the 
name  of  Thoul,  was  established  in  the  Rue  Saint-Maur,  at  the 
head  of  a  business  as  embroiderer,  under  the  name  of  Thoul 
and  Bijou. 

Victorin  Hulot,  under  the  overwhelming  disasters  of  his 
family,  had  received  the  finishing  touch  which  makes  or  mars 
the  man.  He  was  perfection.  In  the  great  storms  of  life  we 
act  like  the  captain  of  a  ship  who,  under  the  stress  of  a  hurri- 
cane, lightens  the  ship  of  its  heaviest  cargo.  The  young 
lawyer  lost  his  self-conscious  pride,  his  too  evident  assertive- 
ness,  his  arrogance  as  an  orator,  and  his  political  pretensions. 
He  was  as  a  man  what  his  wife  was  as  a  woman.  He  made  up 
his  mind  to  make  the  best  of  his  Celestine — who  certainly  did 
not  realize  his  dreams — and  was  wise  enough  to  estimate  life 
at  its  true  value  by  contenting  himself  in  all  things  with  the 
second  best.  He  vowed  to  fulfill  his  duties,  so  much  had  he 
been  shocked  by  his  father's  example. 

These  feelings  were  confirmed  as  he  stood  by  his  mother's 
bed  on  the  day  when  she  was  out  of  danger.  Nor  did  this 
happiness  come  single.  Claud  Vignon,  who  called  every  day 
from  the  Prince  de  Wissembourg  to  inquire  as  to  Madame 
Hulot's  progress,  desired  the  re-elected  deputy  to  go  with  him 
to  see  the  minister. 

"  His  excellency,"  said  he,  "  wants  to  talk  over  your  family 
affairs  with  you." 

The  prince  had  long  known  Victorin  Hulot,  and  received 
him  with  a  friendliness  that  promised  well. 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  said  the  old  soldier,  "  I  promised  your 
uncle,  in  this  room,  that  I  would  take  care  of  your  mother. 
24 


370  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

That  saintly  woman,  I  am  told,  is  getting  well  again  ;  now  is 
the  time  to  pour  oil  into  your  wounds.  I  have  for  you  here 
two  hundred  thousand  francs;  I  will  give  them  to  you " 

The  lawyer's  gesture  was  worthy  of  his  uncle  the  marshal. 

"Be  quite  easy,"  said  the  prince,  smiling;  "it  is  money 
in  trust.  My  days  are  numbered ;  I  shall  not  always  be  here ; 
so  take  this  sum,  and  fill  my  place  toward  your  family.  You 
may  use  this  money  to  pay  off  the  mortgage  on  your  house. 
These  two  hundred  thousand  francs  are  the  property  of  your 
mother  and  your  sister.  If  I  gave  the  money  to  Madame 
Hulot,  I  fear  that,  in  her  devotion  to  her  husband,  she  would 
be  tempted  to  waste  it.  And  the  intention  of  those  who  restore 
it  to  you  is  that  it  should  procure  bread  for  Madame  Hulot 
and  her  daughter,  the  Countess  Steinbock.  You  are  a  steady 
man,  the  worthy  son  of  your  noble  mother,  the  true  nephew 
of  my  friend  the  marshal ;  you  are  appreciated  here,  you  see 
— and  elsewhere.  So  be  the  guardian  angel  of  your  family, 
and  take  this  as  a  legacy  from  your  uncle  and  me." 

"  Monseigneur,"  said  Hulot,  taking  the  minister's  hand 
and  pressing  it,  "  such  men  as  you  know  that  thanks  in  words 
mean  nothing  ;  gratitude  must  be  proven." 

**  Prove  yours "  said  the  old  man. 

"  In  what  way?" 

"  By  accepting  what  T  have  to  offer  you,"  said  the  minister. 
"  We  propose  to  appoint  you  to  be  attorney  to  the  War  Office, 
which  just  now  is  involved  in  litigations  in  consequence  of  the 
plan  for  fortifying  Paris ;  consulting  clerk  also  to  the  prefec- 
ture of  police  ;  and  a  member  of  the  Board  of  the  Civil  List. 
These  three  appointments  will  secure  you  salaries  amounting 
to  eighteen  thousand  francs,  and  will  leave  you  politically 
free.  You  can  vote  in  the  Chamber  in  obedience  to  your 
opinions  and  your  conscience.  Act  in  perfect  freedom  on 
that  score.  It  would  be  a  bad  thing  for  us  if  there  were  no 
national  Opposition  ! 

"  Also,  a  few  lines  from  your  uncle,  written  a  day  or  two 


COUSIN  BETTY,  371 

before  he  breathed  his  last,  suggested  what  I  could  do  for 
your  mother,  whom  he  loved  very  truly.  Mesdames  Popinot, 
de  Rastignac,  de  Navarreins,  d'Espard,  de  Grandlieu,  de 
Carigliano,  de  Lenoncourt,  and  de  la  BSstie  have  made  a 
place  for  your  mother  as  a  lady  superintendent  of  their  chari- 
ties. These  ladies,  presidents  of  various  branches  of  benevo- 
lent work,  cannot  do  everything  themselves;  they  need  a 
lady  of  character  who  can  act  for  them  by  going  to  see  the 
objects  of  their  beneficence,  ascertaining  that  charity  is  not 
imposed  upon,  and  whether  the  help  given  really  reaches  those 
who  applied  for  it,  finding  out  the  poor  who  are  ashamed  to 
beg,  and  so  forth.  Your  mother  will  fulfill  an  angelic  func- 
tion ;  she  will  be  thrown  in  with  none  but  priests  and  these 
charitable  ladies ;  she  will  be  paid  six  thousand  francs  and  the 
cost  of  her  hackney-coaches. 

**  You  see,  young  man,  that  a  pure  and  nobly  virtuous  man 
can  still  assist  his  family,  even  from  the  grave.  Such  a  name 
as  your  uncle's  is,  and  ought  to  be,  a  buckler  against  misfor- 
tune in  a  well-organized  scheme  of  society.  Follow  in  his 
path;  you  have  started  in  it,  I  know;  continue  in  it." 

"  Such  delicate  kindness  cannot  surprise  me  in  my  uncle's 
friend,"  said  Victoria.  "I  will  try  to  come  up  to  all  your 
hopes." 

"Go  at  once,  and  take  comfort  to  your  family.  By  the 
way,"  added  the  prince,  as  he  shook  hands  with  Victorin, 
*'  your  father  has  disappeared  ?  " 

"Alas!  yes." 

"  So  much  the  better.  That  un nappy  man  has  shown  his 
wit,  in  which,  indeed,  he  is  not  lacking." 

"  There  are  bills  of  his  to  be  met." 

"  Well,  you  shall  have  six  months'  pay  of  your  three  appoint- 
ments in  advance.  This  pre-payment  will  help  you,  perhaps, 
to  get  the  notes  out  of  the  hands  of  the  money-lender.  And 
I  will  see  Nucingen,  and  perhaps  may  succeed  in  releasing 
your  father's  pension,  pledged  to  him,  without  its  costing  you 


872  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

or  our  office  a  sou.  The  peer  has  not  killed  the  banker  in 
Nucingen  ;  he  is  insatiable ;  he  wants  some  concession — I 
know  not  what " 

So  on  his  return  to  the  Rue  Plumet,  Victorin  could  carry 
out  his  plan  of  lodging  his  mother  and  sister  under  his  roof. 

The  young  lawyer,  already  famous,  had,  for  his  sole  fortune, 
one  of  the  handsomest  houses  in  Paris,  purchased  in  1834  in 
preparation  for  his  marriage,  situated  on  the  boulevard  between 
the  Rue  de  la  Paix  and  the  Rue  Louis-le-Grand.  A  speculator 
had  built  two  houses  between  the  boulevard  and  the  street ; 
and  between  these,  with  the  gardens  and  courtyards  to  the 
front  and  back,  there  remained  still  standing  a  splendid  wing, 
the  remains  of  the  magnificent  mansion  of  the  Verneuils. 
The  younger  Hulot  had  purchased  this  fine  property,  on  the 
strength  of  Mademoiselle  Crevel's  marriage-portion,  for  one 
million  francs,  when  it  was  put  up  to  auction,  paying  five 
hundred  thousand  down.  He  lived  on  the  first-floor,  expect- 
ing to  pay  the  remainder  out  of  letting  the  rest ;  but  though 
it  is  safe  to  speculate  in  house-property  in  Paris,  such  invest- 
ments are  capricious  or  hang  fire,  depending  on  unforeseen 
circumstances. 

As  the  Parisian  lounger  may  have  observed,  the  boulevard 
between  the  Rue  de  la  Paix  and  the  Rue  Louis-le-Grand  pros- 
pered but  slowly;  it  took  so  long  to  furnish  and  beautify 
itself,  that  trade  did  not  set  up  its  display  there  till  1840 — 
the  gold  of  the  money-changers,  the  fairy-work  of  fashion, 
and  the  luxurious  splendor  of  store-fronts. 

In  spite  of  two  hundred  thousand  francs  given  by  Crevel  to 
his  daughter  at  the  time  when  his  vanity  was  flattered  by  this 
marriage,  before  the  baron  had  robbed  him  of  Josepha;  in 
spite  of  two  hundred  thousand  francs  paid  off  by  Victorin  in 
the  course  of  seven  years,  the  property  was  still  burdened  with 
a  debt  of  five  hundred  thousand  francs,  in  consequence  of 
Victorin's  devotion  to  his  father.  Happily,  a  rise  in  rents 
and  the  advantages  of  the  situation  had  at  this  time  improved 


COUSIN  BETTY.  373 

the  value  of  the  houses.  The  speculation  was  justifying  itself 
after  eight  years'  patience,  during  whicli  the  lawyer  had 
strained  every  nerve  to  pay  the  interest  and  some  trifling 
amounts  of  the  capital  borrowed. 

The  tradespeople  were  ready  to  offer  good  rents  for  the  stores, 
on  condition  of  being  granted  leases  for  eighteen  years.  The 
dwelling  apartments  rose  in  value  by  the  shifting  of  the  centre 
of  Paris  life — henceforth  transferred  to  the  region  between  the 
Bourse  and  the  Madeleine,  now  the  seat  of  the  political  power 
and  financial  authority  of  Paris.  The  money  paid  to  him  by 
the  minister,  added  to  a  year's  rent  in  advance  and  the  pre- 
miums paid  by  his  tenants,  would  finally  reduce  the  outstand- 
ing debt  to  two  hundred  thousand  francs.  The  two  houses, 
if  entirely  let,  would  bring  in  a  hundred  thousand  francs  a 
year.  Within  two  years  more,  during  which  the  Hulots  could 
live  on  his  salaries,  added  to  by  the  marshal's  investments, 
Victorin  would  be  in  a  splendid  position. 

This  was  manna  from  heaven.  Victorin  give  up  the  second- 
floor  of  his  own  house  to  his  mother,  and  the  third  to  Hor- 
tense,  excepting  two  rooms  reserved  for  Lisbeth.  With  Cousin 
Betty  as  the  housekeeper,  this  compound  household  could  bear 
all  these  charges,  and  yet  keep  up  a  good  appearance,  as  be- 
seemed a  pleader  of  note.  The  great  stars  of  the  law-courts 
were  rapidly  disappearing  ;  and  Victorin  Hulot,  gifted  with  a 
shrewd  tongue  and  strict  honesty,  was  listened  to  by  the 
bench  and  councilors;  he  studied  his  cases  thoroughly,  and 
advanced  nothing  that  he  could  not  prove.  He  would  not 
hold  every  brief  that  offered  ;  in  fact,  he  was  a  credit  to  the 
bar. 

The  baroness'  home  in  the  Rue  Plumet  had  become  so 
odious  to  her  that  she  allowed  herself  to  be  taken  to  the  Rue 
Louis-le-Grand.  Thus,  by  her  son's  care,  Adeline  occupied 
a  fine  apartment ;  she  was  spared  all  the  daily  worries  of  life ; 
for  Lisbeth  consented  to  begin  again,  working  wonders  of 
domestic  economy,   such  as  she  had  achieved  for  Madame 


374  THE  POOR   PARENTS. 

Marneffe,  seeing  here  a  way  of  exerting  her  silent  vengeance 
on  those  three  noble  lives,  the  object,  each,  of  her  hatred, 
which  was  kept  growing  by  the  overthrow  of  all  her  hopes. 

Once  a  month  she  went  to  see  Valerie,  sent,  indeed,  by 
Hortense,  who  wanted  news  of  Wenceslas,  and  by  Celestine, 
who  was  seriously  uneasy  at  the  acknowledged  and  well-known 
connection  between  her  father  and  a  woman  to  whom  her 
mother-in-law  and  sister-in-law  owed  their  ruin  and  their  sor- 
rows. As  may  be  supposed,  Lisbeth  took  advantage  of  this  to 
see  Valerie  as  often  as  possible. 

Thus,  about  twenty  months  passed  by,  dunng  which  the 
baroness  recovered  her  health,  though  her  palsied  trembling 
never  left  her.  She  made  herself  familiar  with  her  duties, 
which  afforded  her  a  noble  distraction  from  her  sorrow  and 
constant  food  for  the  divine  goodness  of  her  heart.  She  also 
regarded  it  as  an  opportunity  for  finding  her  husband  in  the 
course  of  one  of  those  expeditions  which  took  her  into  every 
part  of  Paris. 

During  this  time,  Vauvinet  had  been  paid,  and  the  pension 
of  six  thousand  francs  was  almost  redeemed.  Victorin  could 
maintain  his  mother  as  well  as  Hortense  out  of  the  ten  thou- 
sand francs  interest  on  the  money  left  by  Marshal  Hulot  in 
trust  for  them.  Adeline's  salary  amounted  to  six  thousand 
francs  a  year;  and  this,  added  to  the  baron's  pension  when  it 
was  freed,  would  presently  secure  an  income  of  twelve  thou- 
sand francs  a  year  to  the  mother  and  daughter. 

Thus,  the  poor  woman  would  have  been  almost  happy  but 
for  her  perpetual  anxieties  as  to  the  baron's  fate ;  for  she  longed 
to  have  him  with  her  to  share  the  improved  fortunes  that  smiled 
on  the  family ;  and  but  for  the  constant  sight  of  her  forsaken 
daughter ;  and  but  for  the  terrible  thrusts  constantly  and 
"unconsciously"  dealt  her  by  Lisbeth,  whose  diabolical 
character  had  free  course. 

A  scene  which  took  place  at  the  beginning  of  the  month  of 


COUSIN  BETTY.  375 

March,  1843,  *^^^  sliow  the  results  of  Lisbeth's  latent  and  per- 
sistent hatred,  still  seconded,  as  she  alwa)rs  was,  by  Madame 
Marneffe. 

Two  great  events  had  occurred  in  the  Marneffe  household. 
In  the  first  place,  Valerie  had  given  birth  to  a  still-born  child, 
whose  little  coffin  had  cost  her  two  thousand  francs  a  year. 
And  then,  as  to  Marneffe  himself,  eleven  months  since,  this  is 
the  report  given  by  Lisbeth  to  the  Hulot  family  one  day  on 
her  return  from  a  visit  of  discovery  at  the  Hotel  Marneffe : 

"This  morning,"  said  she,  "that  dreadful  Valerie  sent  for 
Doctor  Bianchon  to  ask  whether  the  medical  men  who  had 
condemned  her  husband  yesterday  had  made  no  mistake. 
Bianchon  pronounced  that  to-night  at  latest  that  horrible 
creature  will  depart  to  the  hell  that  awaits  him.  Old  Crevel 
and  Madame  Marneffe  saw  the  doctor  out ;  and  your  father, 
my  dear  Celestine,  gave  him  five  gold-pieces  for  his  good 
news. 

"  When  he  came  back  into  the  drawing-room,  Crevel  cut 
capers  like  a  dancer;  he  embraced  that  woman,  exclaiming, 
'  Then,  at  last,  you  will  be  Madame  Crevel ! '  And  to  me, 
when  she  had  gone  back  to  her  husband's  bedside,  for  he  was 
at  his  last  gasp,  your  Yjoble  father  said  to  me  :  '  With  Valerie 
as  my  wife,  I  can  become  a  peer  of  France  !  I  shall  buy  an 
estate  I  have  my  eye  on — Presles,  which  Madame  de  Serizy 
wants  to  sell.  I  shall  be  Crevel  de  Presles,  member  of  the 
Council  General  of  Seine-et-Oise,  and  deputy.  I  shall  have 
a  son  !  I  shall  be  everything  I  have  ever  wished  to  be.' 
*Eh!'  said  I,  *and  what  about  your  daughter?'  *  Bah  ! ' 
says  he,  '  she  is  only  a  woman  !  And  she  is  quite  too  much 
of  a  Hulot.  Valerie  has  a  horror  of  them  all.  My  son-in- 
law  has  never  chosen  to  come  to  this  house ;  why  has  he  given 
himself  such  airs  as  a  Mentor,  a  Spartan,  a  Puritan,  a  philan- 
thropist? Beside,  I  have  squared  accounts  with  my  daugh- 
ter ;  she  has  had  all  her  mother's  fortune,  and  two  hundred 
thousand  francs  to  that.     So  I  am  free  to  act  as  I  please.     I 


376  THE   POOR   PARENTS. 

•shall  judge  of  my  son-in-law  and  Celestine  by  their  conduct 
on  my  marriage ;  as  they  behave,  so  shall  I.  If  they  are  nice 
to  their  stepmother,  I  will  receive  them.  I  am  a  man,  after 
all !  '  In  short,  all  his  rhodomontade  !  And  an  attitude  like 
Napoleon  on  the  column." 

The  ten  months'  widowhood  insisted  on  by  the  law  had 
now  elapsed  some  few  days  since.  The  estate  of  Presles  was 
purchased.  Victorin  and  Celestine  had  that  very  morning 
sent  Lisbeth  to  make  inquiries  as  to  the  marriage  of  the  fas- 
cinating widow  to  the  Mayor  of  Paris,  now  a  member  of  the 
Council  General  of  the  Department  of  Seine-et-Oise. 

Celestine  and  Hortense,  in  whom  the  ties  of  affection  had 
been  drawn  closer  since  they  had  lived  under  the  same  roof, 
were  almost  inseparable.  The  baroness,  carried  away  by  a 
sense  of  honesty  which  led  her  to  exaggerate  the  duties  of  her 
place,  devoted  herself  to  the  work  of  charity  of  which  she  was 
the  stipendiary ;  she  was  out  almost  every  day  from  eleven  till 
five.  The  sisters-in-law,  united  in  their  cares  for  the  children 
whom  they  kept  together,  sat  at  home  and  worked.  They  had 
arrived  at  the  intimacy  which  thinks  aloud,  and  were  a  touch- 
ing picture  of  two  sisters,  one  cheerful  and  the  other  sad.  The 
less  happy  of  the  two,  handsome,  lively,  high-spirited  and 
clever,  seemed  by  her  manner  to  defy  her  painful  situation ; 
while  the  melancholy  Celestine,  sweet  and  calm,  and  as  equable 
as  reason  itself,  might  have  been  supposed  to  have  some  secret 
grief.  It  was  this  contradiction,  perhaps,  that  added  to  their 
warm  friendship.  Each  supplied  the  other  with  that  she 
lacked. 

Seated  in  a  little  summer-house  in  the  garden,  which  the 
speculator's  trowel  had  spared  by  some  happy  fancy  of  the 
builder's,  who  believed  that  he  was  preserving  these  hundred 
feet  square  of  earth  for  his  own  pleasure,  they  were  admiring 
the  first  green  shoots  of  the  lilac-trees,  a  spring  festival  which 
can  only  be  fully  appreciated  in  Paris  when  the  inhabitants 
Jiave  lived  for  six  months  oblivious  of  what  vegetation  means, 


COUSIN  BETTY.  877 

among  the  cliffs  of  stone  where  the  ocean  of  humanity  tosses 
to  and  fro. 

"Celestine,"  said  Hortense  to  her  sister-in-law,  who  had 
complained  that  in  such  fine  weather  her  husband  should  be 
kept  at  the  Chamber,  *•'  I  think  you  do  not  fully  appreciate 
your  happiness.  Victoria  is  a  perfect  angel,  and  you  some- 
times torment  him." 

"  My  dear,  men  like  to  be  tormented  !  Certain  ways  of 
teasing  are  a  proof  of  aifection.  If  your  poor  mother  had 
only  been — I  will  not  say  exacting,  but  always  prepared  to  be 
exacting,  you  would  not  have  had  so  much  just  now  to  grieve 
over. ' ' 

"  Lisbeth  has  not  come  back.  I  shall  have  to  sing  the  song 
of  Marlborough,"  said  Hortense.  "  I  do  long  for  some  news 
of  Wenceslas  !  What  does  he  live  on  ?  He  has  not  done  a 
thing  these  two  years." 

"  Victorin  saw  him,  he  told  me,  with  that  horrible  woman 
not  long  ago  ;  and  he  fancies  that  she  maintains  him  in  idle- 
ness. If  you  only  would,  dear  soul,  you  might  bring  your 
husband  back  to  you  yet." 

Hortense  shook  her  head. 

"Believe  me,"  Celestine  went  on,  "the  position  will  ere 
long  be  intolerable.  In  the  first  instance,  rage,  despair,  in- 
dignation gave  you  strength.  The  awful  disasters  that  have 
come  upon  us  since — two  deaths,  ruin,  and  the  disappearance 
of  Baron  Hulot — have  occupied  your  mind  and  heart ;  but 
now  you  live  in  peace  and  silence,  you  will  find  it  hard  to  bear 
the  void  in  your  life  ;  and  as  you  cannot  and  will  never  leave 
the  path  of  virtue,  you  will  have  to  be  reconciled  to  Wenceslas  ; 
Victorin,  who  loves  you  so  much,  is  of  that  opinion.  There 
is  something  stronger  than  one's  feelings  even,  and  that  is 
Nature?" 

"But  such  a  mean  creature  !  "  cried  the  proud  Hortense. 
"  He  cares  for  that  woman  because  she  feeds  him.  And  has 
she  paid  his  debts,  do  you  suppose  ?     Good  heaven  !     I  think 


378  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

of  that  man's  position  day  and  night !  He  is  the  father  of 
my  child,  and  he  is  degrading  himself." 

"But  look  at  your  noble  mother,  my  dear,"  said  the  per- 
sistent Celestine. 

Celestine  was  one  of  those  women  who,  when  you  have 
given  them  reasons  enough  to  convince  a  Breton  peasant,  still 
go  back  for  the  hundredth  time  to  their  original  argument. 
The  character  of  her  face,  somewhat  flat,  dull,  and  common, 
her  light-brown  hair  in  stiff',  neat  bands,  her  very  complexion 
spoke  of  a  sensible  woman,  devoid  of  charm,  but  also  without 
weakness. 

*'  The  baroness  would  willingly  go  to  join  her  husband  in 
his  disgrace,  to  comfort  him  and  hide  him  in  her  heart  from 
every  eye,"  Celestine  went  on.  "  Why,  she  has  a  room  made 
ready  upstairs  for  Monsieur  Hulot,  as  if  she  expected  to  find 
him  and  bring  him  home  from  one  day  to  the  next." 

"Oh  yes,  my  mother  is  sublime!"  replied  Hortense. 
"  She  has  been  so  every  minute  of  every  day  for  six-and- 
twenty  years ;  but  I  am  not  like  her,  it  is  not  my  nature. 
How  can  I  help  it?  I  am  angry  with  myself  sometimes;  but 
you  do  not  know,  Celestine,  what  it  would  be  to  make  terms 
with  infamy." 

"  There  is  my  father !  "  said  Celestine  placidly.  "  He  has 
certainly  started  on  the  road  that  ruined  yours.  He  is  ten 
years  younger  than  the  baron,  to  be  sure,  and  was  only  a 
tradesman  ;  but  how  can  it  end  ?  This  Madame  Marneffe  has 
made  a  slave  of  my  father  ;  he  is  her  dog ;  she  is  mistress  of 
his  fortune  and  his  opinions,  and  nothing  can  open  his  eyes. 
I  tremble  when  I  remember  that  their  banns  of  marriage  are 
already  published  !  My  husband  means  to  make  a  last  at- 
tempt ;  he  thinks  it  a  duty  to  try  to  avenge  society  and  the 
family,  and  bring  that  woman  to  account  for  all  her  crimes, 
Alas  !  my  dear  Hortense,  such  lofty  souls  as  Victorin  and  hearts 
like  ours  come  too  late  to  a  comprehension  of  the  world  and 
its  ways !     This  is  a  secret,  dear,  and  I  have  told  you  because 


COUSIN  BETTY.  379 

you  are  interested  in  it,  but  never  by  a  word  or  a  look  betray 
it  to  Lisbeth,  or  your  mother,  or  anybody,  for " 

"  Here  is  Lisbeth  !  "  said  Hortense.  "  Well,  cousin,  and 
how  is  the  Inferno  of  the  Rue  Barbet  going  on  ?  " 

"Badly  for  you,  my  children.  Your  husband,  my  dear 
Hortense,  is  more  crazy  about  that  woman  than  ever,  and  she, 
I  must  own,  is  madly  in  love  with  him.  Your  father,  dear 
Celestine,  is  gloriously  blind.  That,  to  be  sure,  is  nothing; 
I  have  had  occasion  to  see  it  once  a  fortnight ;  really,  I  am 
lucky  never  to  have  had  anything  to  do  with  men,  they  are 
besotted  creatures.  Five  days  hence  you,  dear  child,  and 
Victorin  will  have  lost  your  father's  fortune." 

*'  Then  the  banns  are  cried?  "  said  Celestine. 

"Yes,"  said  Lisbeth,  "and  I  have  just  been  arguing  your 
case.  I  pointed  out  to  that  monster,  who  is  going  the  way 
of  the  other,  that  if  he  would  only  get  you  out  of  the  diflScul- 
ties  you  are  in  by  paying  off  the  mortgage  on  the  house,  you 
would  show  your  gratitude  and  receive  your  stepmother " 

Hortense  started  in  horror. 

"Victorin  will  see  about  that,"  said  Celestine  coldly. 

"  But  do  you  know  what  Monsieur  le  Maire's  answer  was  ?  " 
said  Lisbeth.  "  '  I  mean  to  leave  them  where  they  are.  Horses 
can  only  be  broken  in  by  a  lack  of  food,  sleep,  and  sugar.' 
Why,  Baron  Hulot  was  not  so  bad  as  Monsieur  Crevel. 

"So,  my  poor  dears,  you  may  say  good-by  to  the  inherit- 
ance. And  such  a  fine  fortune  !  Your  father  paid  three 
million  francs  for  the  Presles  estate,  and  he  has  thirty  thou- 
sand francs  a  year  in  stocks !  Oh  ! — he  has  no  secrets  from 
me.  He  talks  of  buying  the  Hotel  de  Navarreins,  in  the  Rue 
du  Bac.  Madame  MarneflFe  herself  has  forty  thousand  francs 
a  year.  Ah  !  here  is  our  guardian  angel,  here  comes  your 
mother!  "  she  exclaimed,  hearing  the  rumble  of  wheels. 

And  presently  the  baroness  came  down  the  garden  steps 
and  joined  the  party.  At  fifty-five,  though  crushed  by  so 
many  troubles,  and  constantly  trembling  as  if  shivering  with 


380  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

ague,  Adeline,  whose  face  was  indeed  pale  and  wrinkled,  still 
had  a  fine  figuie,  a  noble  outline,  and  natural  dignity.  Those 
who  saw  her  said,  "  She  must  have  been  beautiful  !  "  Worn 
with  the  grief  of  not  knowing  her  husband's  fate,  of  being 
unable  to  share  with  him  this  oasis  in  the  heart  of  Paris,  this 
peace  and  seclusion  and  the  better  fortune  that  was  dawning 
on  the  family,  her  beauty  was  the  beauty  of  a  ruin.  As  each 
gleam  of  hope  died  out,  each  day  of  search  proved  vain,  Ade- 
line sank  into  fits  of  deep  melancholy  that  drove  her  children 
to  despair. 

The  baroness  had  gone  out  that  morning  with  fresh  hopes, 
and  was  anxiously  expected.  An  official,  who  was  under 
obligations  to  Hulot,  to  whom  he  owed  his  position  and 
advancement,  declared  that  he  had  seen  the  baron  in  a  box 
at  the  Ambigu-Comique  theatre  with  a  woman  of  extraordinary 
beauty.  So  Adeline  had  gone  to  call  on  the  Baron  Verneuil. 
This  important  personage,  while  asserting  that  he  had  posi- 
tively seen  his  old  patron,  and  that  his  behavior  to  the  woman 
indicated  an  illicit  establishment,  told  Madame  Hulot  that  to 
avoid  meeting  him  the  baron  had  left  long  before  the  end  of 
the  play. 

"  He  looked  like  a  man  at  home  with  the  damsel,  but  his 
dress  betrayed  some  lack  of  means,"  said  he  in  conclusion. 

"Well?"  said  the  three  women  as  the  baroness  came 
toward  them. 

**  Well,  Monsieur  Hulot  is  in  Paris;  and  to  me,"  said  Ade- 
line, *•'  it  is  a  gleam  of  happiness  only  to  know  that  he  is 
within  reach  of  us." 

"But  he  does  not  seem  to  have  mended  his  ways,"  Lisbeth 
remarked  when  Adeline  had  finished  her  report  of  her  visit  to 
Baron  Verneuil.  "He  has  taken  up  some  little  workgirl. 
But  where  can  he  get  the  money  from  ?  I  could  bet  that  he 
begs  of  his  former  mistresses — Jenny  Cadine  or  Jos^pha,  per- 
haps." 

The   baroness   trembled   more  severely  than  ever;    every 


COUSIN  BETTY.  381 

nerve  quivered ;  she  wiped  away  the  tears  that  rose  to  her 
eyes  and  looked  mournfully  up  to  heaven. 

"  I  cannot  think  that  a  grand  commander  of  the  Legion  of 
Honor  can  have  fallen  so  low,"  said  she. 

"For  his  pleasure  what  would  he  not  do?"  said  Lisbeth. 
**  He  robbed  the  State,  he  will  rob  private  persons,  commit 
murder — who  knows  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Lisbeth  !  "  cried  the  baroness,  "  keep  such  thoughts 
to  yourself." 

At  this  moment  Louise  came  up  to  the  family  group,  now 
increased  by  the  arrival  of  the  two  Hulot  children  and  little 
Wenceslas  to  see  if  their  grandmother's  pockets  did  not  con- 
tain some  candy. 

' '  What  ic  it,  Louise  ? ' '  asked  one  and  another. 

"A  man  who  wants  to  see  Mademoiselle  Fischer." 

"Who  is  the  man?"  asked  Lisbeth. 

"He  is  in  rags,  mademoiselle,  and  covered  with  flue  like  a 
mattress-picker;  his  nose  is  red,  and  he  smells  of  brandy. 
He  is  one  of  those  men  who  work  half  the  week  at  most." 

This  uninviting  picture  had  the  effect  of  making  Lisbeth 
hurry  into  the  courtyard  of  the  house  in  the  Rue  Louis-le- 
Grand,  where  she  found  a  man  smoking  a  pipe  colored  in  a 
style  that  showed  him  an  artist  in  tobacco. 

"Why  have  you  come  here,  Pere  Chardin?"  she  asked. 
"It  is  understood  that  you  go,  on  the  first  Saturday  in  every 
month,  to  the  gate  of  the  Hotel  Marneffe,  Rue  Barbet-de- 
Jouy.  I  have  just  come  back  after  waiting  there  for  five  hours, 
and  you  did  not  come." 

"  I  did  go  there,  good  and  charitable  lady  !  "  replied  the 
mattress-maker.  "  But  there  was  a  game  at  pool  going  on  at 
the  Cafe  des  Savants,  Rue  du  Cerf- Volant,  and  every  man  has 
his  fancy.  Now,  mine  is  billiards.  If  it  wasn't  for  billiards, 
I  might  be  eating  off  silver.  For,  I  tell  you  this,"  and  he 
fumbled  for  a  scrap  of  paper  in  his  ragged  trousers  pocket, 
"it  is  billiards  that  leads  on  to  a  dram  and  plum-brandy.     It 


382  THE  POOR  PARENTS. 

is  ruinous,  like  all  fine  things,  in  the  things  it  leads  to.  I 
know  your  orders,  but  the  old  'un  is  in  such  a  quandary  that 
I  came  on  to  forbidden  ground.  If  the  hair  was  all  hair,  we 
might  sleep  sound  on  it  ;  but  it  is  mixed.  God  is  not  for  all, 
as  the  saying  goes.  He  has  His  favorites — well,  He  has  the 
right.  Now,  here  is  the  writing  of  your  estimable  relative 
and  my  very  good  friend — his  political  opinion." 

Chardin  attempted  to  trace  some  zigzag  lines  in  the  air 
with  the  forefinger  of  his  right  hand. 

Lisbeth,  not  listening  to  him,  read  these  few  words : 

"  Dear  Cousin  ; — Be  my  Providence ;  give  me  three  hun- 
dred francs  to-day.  Hector." 

"  What  does  he  want  so  much  money  for  ?  "  she  asked  the 
messenger. 

"The  lan'lord  !  "  said  Chardin,  still  trying  to  sketch  ara- 
besques. "And  then  my  son,  you  see,  has  come  back  from 
Algiers  through  Spain  and  Bayonne,  and,  and — he  \iz.%  found 
nothing — against  his  rule,  for  a  sharp  cove  is  my  son,  saving 
your  presence.  How  can  he  help  it,  he  is  in  want  of  food ; 
but  he  will  repay  all  we  lend  him,  for  he  is  going  to  get  up  a 
company.     He  has  ideas,  he  has,  that  will  carry  him " 

"To  the  police  court,"  Lisbeth  put  in.  "He  murdered 
my  uncle;  I  shall  not  forget  that." 

"He — why,  he  could  not  bleed  a  chicken,  honorable 
lady." 

"  Here  are  the  three  hundred  francs,"  said  Lisbeth,  taking 
fifteen  gold-pieces  out  of  her  purse.  "Now,  go,  and  never 
come  here  again." 

She  saw  the  father  of  the  Algerian  storekeeper  off  the 
premises,  and  pointed  out  the  drunken  old  creature  to  the 
porter. 

"  At  any  time  when  that  man  comes  here,  if  by  chance  he 
should  come  again,  do  not  let  him  in.      If  he   should  ask 


COUSIN  BETTY.  383 

whether  Monsieur  Hulot  junior  or  Madame  la  Baronne  Hulot 
lives  here,  tell  him  you  know  of  no  such  persons." 

**  Very  good,  mademoiselle." 

"  Your  place  depends  on  it  if  you  make  any  mistake,  even 
without  intending  it,"  said  Lisbeth  in  the  woman's  ear. 
"  Cousin,"  she  went  on  to  Victorin,  who  just  now  came  in, 
"a  great  misfortune  is  hanging  over  your  head." 

"What  is  that?"  said  Victorin. 

"  Within  a  few  days  Madame  Marneffe  will  be  your  wife's 
stepmother." 

**  That  remains  to  be  seen,"  replied  Victorin. 

For  six  months  past  Lisbeth  had  very  regularly  paid  a  little 
allowance  to  Baron  Hulot,  her  former  protector,  whom  she 
now  protected ;  she  knew  the  secret  of  his  dwelling-place,  and 
relished  Adeline's  tears,  saying  to  her,  as  we  have  seen,  when 
she  saw  her  cheerful  and  hopeful :  "  You  may  expect  to  find 
my  poor  cousin's  name  in  the  papers  some  day  under  the 
heading  *  Police  Report.'  " 

But  in  this,  as  on  a  former  occasion,  she  let  her  vengeance 
carry  her  too  far.  She  had  aroused  the  prudent  suspicions  of 
Victorin.  He  had  resolved  to  be  rid  of  this  Damocles'  sword 
so  constantly  flourished  over  them  by  Lisbeth,  and  of  the 
female  demon  to  whom  his  mother  and  the  family  owed  so 
many  woes.  The  Prince  de  Wissembourg,  knowing  all  about 
Madame  Marneffe's  conduct,  approved  of  the  young  lawyer's 
secret  project ;  he  had  promised  him,  as  a  president  of  the 
Council  can  promise,  the  secret  assistance  of  the  police,  to 
enlighten  Crevel  and  rescue^a  fine  fortune  from  the  clutches 
of  the  diabolical  courtesan,  whom,  he  declared,  he  could  not 
forgive  either  for  causing  the  death  of  Marshal  Hulot  or  for 
the  baron'r.  utter  ruin. 

END  OF  PART  I. 


UCSB  LIBRARY 


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